Blades of Autumn
by Ser Roderik
Summary: A Warhammer Fantasy adventure. A disparate group of outlaws and vagabonds band together and begin a sweeping adventure across the Old World and beyond... T for Violence and Language. Epic action in the style of Lord of the Rings/Gladiator
1. Chapter 1

**This story was originally intended for people who don't know a lot about Warhammer, so I explain a few things that might not otherwise need explaining. Chapter One is a bit rocky, since its been a while since I've written much, but I get back in the groove pretty quick. I love reviews. **

**The characters are mine, the setting and history belongs to Games Workshop.**

Derrick leaned out over the rail of the ship, breathing in the sharp sea air, as waves crashed against the hull below. The endless blue-green desolation of the Sea of Chaos stretched before him. _Sigmar's Comet_ creaked and rolled gently beneath him, and he spied her sister ship _The Star of the North _a little way off. He heard sails flap in the wind, the cry of seagulls, rough curses of sailors. He smelt the moist tang of the ocean breeze, and could taste the salt on his lips. The sun beat down from a cloudless blue sky, and he had to shield his eyes to make out the other ships in the distance.

Six ships had left Dietershafen two days past, bound for the great port of Marienburg. It had cost Derrick the last of his coins to secure passage, but he had not had many options. His picture had been nailed on more than one tavern wall. There was a hefty reward for his capture…dead or alive.

He ran his fingers through his long brown hair, and turned back to watch the activity behind him. Sailors scattered the deck, pulling on ropes, climbing the rigging, and doing other important-looking tasks. Most were hard, ugly men, with menacing faces and lean bodies.

Derrick bumped into a cannon to the amusement of a few men nearby. Annoyed, he swiftly made his way below deck. Breakfast was being served and he had to smile to himself. The men who laughed at him wouldn't eat nearly as well as the paying passengers. Indeed, the sailors had their own mess hall below decks, and they were encouraged to leave the passengers well enough alone. That suited Derrick just fine. He grabbed a bowl and stepped into line. A one eyed sailor with a large grin ladled a thick porridge into the bowl, and Derrick grabbed a plate of fried bread and bacon.

He crouched in the small space and sat at a bench, setting his food on the table. He noticed a dwarf sitting across from him, positioning a block of wood on the bench. His nose poked over the top of the table as he moved it. Satisfied, he heaved himself up, grabbing the table, and sat on the wood. The table shook with the effort, and more than a few cups of ale spilt. Derrick heard curses up and down the table, but the dwarf was unperturbed, now comfortable high enough to enjoy his meal.

Someone sat down next to Derrick. He was a big man, with close cropped hair and dark stubble on his face. He wore a bear pelt as a cloak, and nodded to Derrick.

"How's the porridge?" he asked, putting down his own bowl.

"Haven't had the chance to try" Derrick replied, tasting his. He nodded. "Alright. Needs honey."

"Not like to find honey on the ocean, manling" the dwarf across from him said.

_People always willing to talk when you're travelling together_ Derrick thought, remembering travelling the high road in youth. _I wonder how long before they ask why I'm going-_

"What takes you to Marienburg?" the dwarf asked, sipping some ale. Derrick didn't answer right away… he waited for the man next to him. He didn't either, and so they looked at each other awkwardly.

"Who were you asking?" the man next to him said to the dwarf.

"Both- good conversation is the best way to pass the time, me Da' always said."

"I'm visiting family" Derrick replied.

The man next to him nodded "I'm a sword for hire- past time I looked for work in the big city".

The dwarf told them he was a prospector, returning from a trip to scout a new silver mine for a Kislevite lord. As they ate their meal they talked, Derrick learned the dwarf's name was Thorgrim, the 

mercenary was Kurt. After their meal they each retired to their own cabins, and Derrick was sure they would meet many more times over the course of the journey.

--

The next three days passed as the first two had: lazily, at times painfully slow. After familiarizing oneself with the ship, the novelty of being at sea quickly turned to boredom. Derrick found himself wishing he had his sword, so he could at least sharpen it…not that it needed to be sharpened. Everyone's weapons had been confiscated upon boarding the vessel, a numbered token tied to the item, and its twin given to the owner. He would return the token at the end of the trip, and receive his weapons. Until then, he had to find other ways to occupy the time.

Derrick found himself on the deck this evening, with most of the other passengers. The sky had become overcast and a chill had entered the air, but it was still preferable to below decks. Derrick found himself watching a short brown-haired woman as she gazed out to sea. He had noticed her once or twice below decks, her deep brown eyes and shapely figure by far the most attractive thing on _Sigmar's Hammer_. Currently, she read from a small book in her lap, looking up occasionally as the wind blew through her dark hair. Her clothing was simple but flattering, a brown woolen dress that hugged her ample chest. She seemed to feel his gaze upon her and looked up, forcing Derrick to look elsewhere.

He noted a small commotion in the corner, as a few sailors and passengers crowded around something. Aware that the woman was still watching him, he stood and casually made his way over to the group. One of the men turned away, and Derrick saw Thorgrim sitting on a barrel, cards in his hands. Taking the place of the last onlooker, Derrick saw the dwarf sat across from a tall broad-shouldered man with dark features. His eyes were quick and penetrating, and he wore clothing that looked expensive but well used. He sported a dark green cloak and jerkin, almost black, but one could make out the glint of 

chainmail at the joints. _We're alone, in the middle of the ocean, and he's wearing armour... clearly I'm not the only person on this ship with a history._

"Alright manling, your bet" Thorgrim said, tossing some brass pennies on the deck. Between the two lay a large pile of coins, a few of them silver. The other man adjusted the cards clutched in his hands.

"I'll double your bet" he said in a Bretonnian accent, dropping the appropriate amount. The dwarf spat on the deck, then nodded. One of the sailors leaned next to another.

"The dwarf has 'im now, you wait and see." Before the other man could respond, a cry went up from behind them.

"Sail on the horizon!"

Derrick turned around, leaving the game to the players. He jogged over to the rail, followed by a number of others.

"Where is it?" someone asked.

"Not sure" said a sailor, squinting.

A high voice cut through the others. "There it is" the brown-haired Woman said, pointing to where a black bank of clouds met the horizon. Derrick peered towards it and immediately saw a blurry white shape contrast against clouds.

"Well done lass" Derrick said, nodding with a grin. He saw her scowl in his direction, before she looked back at the ship.

"What kind of ship is it?" she asked no one in particular.

"Can't say at this distance, 'less you've got a spyglass up that skirt of yours." Someone quipped, causing raucous laughs. Derrick pretended the joke wasn't funny, as the woman looked at the men around her.

"One more word out of you lot, and the captain will hear of this!" She said, her cheeks flushed red. That quieted the sailors down at least. The speck continued to grow on the horizon, the crowd steadily growing as word passed below decks. Derrick heard fearful muttering from some of the sailors.

"No other ships headin' our way from Dietershafen for at least a fortnight…" one sailor muttered.

"No need for worry!" a cultured accent yelled from behind them. Derrick turned and saw the Captain in his ridiculous brightly coloured outfit, peacock feathers sticking from his hat. He twirled his long moustache and addressed the gathered onlookers "We're in a convoy, six ships against one is hardly a contest I daresay." He winked at the Woman, who rolled her eyes.

"Capn' sir, we and the _Star_ are the slowest in the line sir. Mayhaps we should signal the others to circle around…" one of the sailors said.

The Captain frowned "You suggest I upset my fellow Captains over a single sail on the horizon? Surely not."

Some uneasy looks passed amongst the crew. Derrick felt a weight in the pit of his stomach. As the crowd began to disperse, Derrick followed the crewman who had spoken up. Once he was satisfied they were out of earshot, Derrick stopped the man.

"Yessir?" the sailor asked.

"Uhh, I was just wondering how much…_experience _the Captain has in these matters."

The crewman looked around nervously, before answering"He's been in command for only two months sir, but you didn't hear that from me." Derrick's eyes widened.

"You aught to look to the cannons" a voice said from over Derrick's shoulder. He turned back to see the Bretonnian card player standing a few feet behind him.

"I usually see to such things when the Captain makes one of his decisions" the sailor said. Derrick nodded, and the man slipped away.

The Bretonnian looked over at Derrick. "Apparently not everyone on this vessel is a fool" he said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

"Derrick Tolbert " Derrick said offering a hand.

"Goliuth" the man said, shaking it. "Don't care much for last names".

"Do you have any idea what kind of ship that is?" Derrick asked, nodding toward the shape.

"No, but I have a way to find out" he said, producing a spyglass from a coat in his cloak. Derrick smiled. _At least someone here knows what they're doing_.

The two men returned to the railing, and Goliuth extended the brass eyepiece with a snap. He looked through it and stared for a long time. Derrick didn't say anything, but felt his gut tighten as the man put the glass down. His expression was grim.

"It's Elven" Goliuth said curtly.

"That's good, isn't it?" Derrick asked.

Goliuth handed him the spyglass. "Not when the ship is painted black."

Putting it to his eye, Derrick felt a twinge of horror. It bore the unmistakable markings of a Dark Elf Reaver. "Gods preserve us" he muttered.

Thunder boomed across the darkening sky.

"The gods are fine, but I put my faith in cold steel" Goliuth replied gravely.

--

"COMMON BOYS, WE NEED EVERY SHEET WE HAVE!" yelled the Captain, as lightning cracked across the sky. Sailors moved across the deck with haste, nimbly climbing the rigging. Derrick felt a few droplets of rain strike his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, adjusting his chainmail. He looked over at Kurt and Goliuth as they checked their own weapons. There was a crack that Derrick thought might be more thunder, but was in fact onr of the sails opening in the wind. He rubbed his hands nervously as the ship pitched to the left."I should have stayed on land" he muttered.

"Then we'd likely be under attack from beasts of Chaos" Thorgrim responded, sitting next to him. Derrick was about to respond when he saw huge shape off the starboard rail. Standing, he quickly realized it was _The Star of the North_, their sister ship. In a flash of lightning, he saw something was wrong with her sails. Derrick moved next to the Captain, who was busy trying to light a lantern.

"Something's wrong with the other ship!" Derrick yelled over a gust of wind. The Captain looked at him, then to where he was pointing. He licked his lips.

"She- uhh-"

"She needs our help!" Derrick said, watching the rapidly receding behind them.

The Captain shook his head "We'll regroup with the others first."

Derrick saw the first mate and the other passengers were watching. "It's too dark to signal the other ships now. They might not have even seen-"

"I am Captain of this ship, sir!" the other man yelled. Derrick saw the twinkle of desperation in the Captain's eyes. Only the lanterns of the _Star_ were now visible in the darkness. Kurt appeared out of the darkness to the Captain's left.

"It took you long enough just to let us at our weapons, don't be a fool about this too. The _Star_ is the only other ship in the convoy that was close enough to see the Reaver. We're all she has."

The Captain's eye's flickered to the big man, then back to Derrick. "First mate, escort these men below decks." Derrick looked around and saw three other crewman watching, cutlasses in their hands. They looked to the mate as though the real decision were his.

The crewman Derrick had spoken to earlier jumped off some rigging, landing a few feet away. "If we 'ad all stayed close to each other- like a convoy is aught to- we'd be six ships instead of just two" he said. The first mate looked to the crewman, nodding. "Dirk here's right sir. If you knew anything about seamanship we wouldn't be in this mess." The Captain's eyes widened and he looked around pleadingly. "This is mutiny! Madness! You can't suggest we risk our lives for the _Star_!"

"Last time I checked, that was the whole point of a convoy" Goliuth said, coming to stand next Kurt.

"Get below you coward!" Dirk yelled at the Captain. The man looked around in horror, then retreated below decks.

"Come about, we 'ave a ship to save!" Dirk yelled. The crew snapped into action. The night had fallen truly now, inky blackness blanketing the sea. Wind howled across the waves and rain mingled with salt spray, as lightning forked down from the heavens. _Sigmar's Comet_ creaked and groaned as she came about, bearing back towards her sister. Derrick saw her lanterns swinging in the wind a ways off. _We'll have more than enough time to help her get underway…_ Derrick hoped.

The ships were soon alongside one another, facing in opposite directions. Dirk and the crew brought _Sigmar's Comet_ as close as the weather allowed. Across the gap, Derrick could make out men as they ran across the deck of the other ship, pulling frantically at her rigging. "Get some men into a boat and send them over!" the first mate yelled. "Looks like with a few extra hands, they'll be able to get their topsail-"

From the darkness, past _the Star of the North,_ Derrick suddenly saw a black shape rear out of the night. The Reaver slammed into the exposed side of the ship, her iron ram smashing the _Star_ through the waves. Derrick realized what was about to happen a moment before it did. The _Star_ listed to her side, pushed by the momentum of the attack, and the gap between her and the _Comet _rapidly closed. "BRACE FOR IMPACT!" someone yelled, and the side of the sister ships slammed together.

Men flew from the rigging to the crashing sea below, and Derrick was thrown to the deck. He felt the ship tilt beneath him, and a cannon tore free of its moorings. It rolled past, inches from his head, and smashed into the opposing railing. He looked up in time to see a lantern fall from its perch, flying towards the cannon. Light flashed as the loaded cannon ignited. He put his hands over his head, and there was a resounding boom. There was a rush of air, an acrid stench, and someone screamed.

Derrick opened his eyes, yelled and pulled himself to his feet. He looked left and saw figures running across the deck. In a flash the ship was thrown into total darkness.

_Weren't there were more lanterns?_

Something tore through the air by his head, and he ducked. There was a "twang!" and he saw a black arrow embed itself in the mast behind him. A woman screamed, and he thought of the pretty one from earlier. He drew his sword, and light came back to the world.

His elven blade- an heirloom that had been in his family for generations- shone with a powerful blue light. He saw pale faces in the darkness, spiked armour, and swords somehow blacker than the night around them. Derrick roared and lunged forward, slashing his blade at a dark elf. His sword opened it's throat, black blood spilling across the mithril steel. There were hisses all around him, like a dozen snakes. Derrick suddenly remembered the hatred dark elves had for all other elves, and realized his shining blade probably made him a choice target. Sword danced towards him from every angle, and he parried desperately. Another arrow tore out of the darkness, this one skinning his neck. Derrick heard roars and yells as the rest of the crew joined the battle against the elves. The foes around him thinned, and he suddenly found himself safe from attack for a moment.

He tried to catch his breath, remembering his shield strapped across his back, he pulled it onto his arm. He heard a yell of pain, Thorgrim staggered past, arrows protruding from his chest. Derrick saw two elves attacking a swordsman to his left, and rushed to his aid. He slashed down at an elf's back, but the creature moved with supernatural speed. It dodged right, catching the sword on its own blade. Suddenly a sword erupted from its back. The elf twisted as the Goliuth- the swordsman- pitched it overboard. Its dark companion was already lying on the ground, a dagger in his throat. There was no time to talk, no time to regroup, as black figures swirled across the deck. Fighting was everywhere. Sailors, passengers, and elves clashed all across the deck. Flashes of pistols and muskets erupted in the dark.

Derrick could make out an elf in a swirling cloak appear in front of him. He raised his blade before him throwing light onto the elf's sharp features. Derrick saw a thin leonine face, silver hair, and eyes as dark as the grave. The elf flashed pearly white teeth, and moved his arms in a strange gesture. Red flames sprang to life, rushing across the deck towards Derrick. He cursed, almost dropping his sword as he ran from the inferno. Derrick almost toppled over the side as his back stuck the railing. He held his shield forward, muttering "Just my luck, finding the one bloody elf wizard!" Fire licked over the edges of the 

round metal shield, but Derrick planted it against the ground. The shield was hot to the touch, but it held the flames at bay. Derrick peeked over the top and saw the black figure of the elven magi. The black figure raised his arms high, the light from the fire flickering around him. Derrick saw tendrils of flame edge around his left and right, past the protection of his shield. He knew he had seconds to act.

Roaring, Derrick pulled back his shield and spun it across the flaming deck toward the wizard. He leapt after it, landing deftly within the protection of the metal. Derrick skidded across the deck towards the bewildered wizard, his gleaming silver blade held high.

"Go to Hell!" Derrick yelled, raking his sword across the magi's beautiful features. Blood erupted from his face, and he fell back to the deck. The elf seemed to lose control of his own magic, for the flames engulfed him as he struck the deck.

Derrick balanced on his shield as the fire burned around him. He looked left and right with a grin, wondering if anyone had seen his heroic win. Four Dark Elves stood a few meters away, repeater crossbows held in their hands. Derrick deflated visibly, as they motioned with their weapons.

"I beat a wizard in single combat, but the only witnesses want to enslave me. Just my luck" he muttered, tossing his sword on the deck and raising his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt Reinhold opened a bloody eye and looked around. He couldn't see much, but he could hear the others. _I can smell them too..._ He thought bitterly. Someone coughed next to him and shifted. Chains clinked. Black, ugly chains, made of some unholy Elven metal. They burned the skin to the touch. He lifted an arm gingerly, and wiped dried blood from his left eye.

"Thorgrim?" he called into the darkness. A few people moaned, but no one responded.

"Anyone see the Dwarf?" Kurt asked again.

"He's dead…" a voice spoke up beside him. Kurt turned to see the Bretonnian card player. He sighed.

"Damn it. I liked him, he was alright for a Dwarf."Kurt said. He shifted and winced, feeling the wound where the arrow had cut into his side. He didn't remember much, just going down faster than he would have liked.

"You're Derrick's friend?" he asked.

"I don't know about friend, we only spoke a few times. I'm Goliuth…Goliuth…ah what the hell, Icefist. Might as well give you my last name. If you're a bounty hunter you're a very committed one."

Kurt raised an eyebrow "I'm Kurt Reinhold. Not a bounty hunter as far as I know, but I've been known to do some banditry from time to time."

Before Goliuth could respond, light flooded in as the hatch above was opened. Everyone squinted as light streamed into the hold. An Elf in dark clothing peered in, then shoved a chained man into the gap. People screamed and jumped out of the way as the man tumbled to the deck below, almost crushing a sailor. The hatch snapped shut, and they were thrust back into darkness.

"Derrick, was that you mate?" Kurt called into the darkness. There was an affirmative grunt, and a shadow that looked like his friend moved toward him.

"Actually, I'm Emperor Karl Franz in disguise, here to rescue you all!" he quipped.

"Fuck off" someone said. Kurt shook his head.

"Well, at least your sense of humour is still intact. Are you hurt?"

Derrick said "Nah, just a bit singed- I'll tell you about that later, you'll be impressed. What about you?"

Kurt indicated his side "Caught an arrow in the side I think, but they patched me up pretty good. Bit strange that…patching us up."

"They don't want the merchandise damaged" Goliuth offered. Derrick and Kurt looked at him. He shrugged. "I thought everyone knew, _druchii_ are the biggest slavers around."

Someone moaned nearby. Kurt swore. Derrick just nodded. "Can't say I'm surprised…when they took me hostage instead of shooting me with those crossbows I was pretty sure what was going on." There was a long silence.

"So," Kurt began "what's our next move?"

Goliuth thought for a moment "Well we either settle down to a life of torment and torture as galley slaves-"

"-If we're lucky-" Derrick interjected.

"-Right, if we're lucky, or we escape."

Kurt shook his head "Easier said than done."

Goliuth nodded "We'll need some of the others to help us" he said.

Derrick nodded as well "So if we're going to include more, we might as well try to help everyone." Goliuth raised a finger "We'll give them the chance to help themselves, but we can't save them all. We need to be practical, we're not in a favourable position here."

"Fair enough…" Derrick agreed. The three set out to planning in earnest.

--

The dark elf reaver _Malkieth_ was a sleek black vessel that cut the sea like a knife through smoke. It's imposing prow was spiked with a fearsome carved deamon's face, and its two black masts rose from its deck like spears of obsidian. The ship was over a hundred meters long and built of naggorth darkwood, a black material that seemed to drink in any light that touched it. Its three decks were crewed by what Kurt and the others estimated between 100 and 120. The dark elves were surprisingly efficient sailors, as they were probably the last people you would expect to see at sea (let alone as pirates). The were tall, delicate looking creatures, who wore black cloaks and armour of exquisite design. Their faces were cruel and angular, but there was no denying their beauty and grace. The ship seemed to sail itself most of the time, with little need for the elves to get their hands dirty by tying ropes or climbing the rigging.

The real work was completed by the fifty three slaves on board. Chained hand and foot, they shuffled around the vessel, scrubbing the decks, performing maintenance, or -worst of all- rowing when there was no wind to be had. Rowing shifts lasted for ten straight hours, with the constant pounding of the slave-driver's drum setting the pace. Anyone who lagged soon learned about the dark elves' love of torture. They had a dozen different types of whips and chains they beat the prisoners with, and if a slave was rebellious in any way they were dragged to see "the Matriarch". None returned.

As some of the slaves broke and died, Kurt, Derrick and Goliuth grew stronger- bonded together by shared torment. All the while…they studied.

They watched their guards patrolling, until they had memorized every last quirk and mannerism. They listened to the slave-master gossip with the crew, and heard that Second Mate Dalieth was as cruel as he was ugly. They watched the captain in his black armour inspect two small boats hanging at the rear of the vessel. They listened to the ship's navigator tell another elf, that they would be within sight of land when the evil moon was full. They watched and listened and watched and listened. And they planned.

One evening a full month later, found them crouched in the hold, whispering with crewman Dirk, the pretty woman- whose name was Justice-, and two other men. Kurt had quickly singled out who amongst the slaves were strong of will and sharp of mind, approaching them. It would not do to reveal their plan to them all, only to have someone blurt out the truth to avoid the lash. When the time came, the others would know. Until then, it was this small group.

Justice pulled up her hand, filled with a some gruel, and whispered "You really think there are enough boats for everyone?"

Galiuth shook his head "No, but there are enough for some." There was an awkward silence. This had been a sticking point.

Derrick looked like he was about to speak, but Dirk cut in "We've been over this, it isn't pretty but it's what we have to deal with." Derrick was silent a few moments, then nodded.

Kurt spoke up "Realistically Derrick, there won't be enough of us left alive to have to worry about who gets a spot in a boat, and who stays behind…" he left the word they were all thinking unsaid ..._hopefully._

"Okay" Justice said, clearing her throat "so, what's this stuff about their holy day again?"

Goliuth looked over at her, rubbing his scraggly beard "I think we should take it from the top."

She gestured with her free hand, as she licked gruel from the other.

Goliuth began,"Alright, we know that we will be within striking distance of land in three days-"

"-When Morrslieb, the dark moon, is full." said Dirk.

"Precisely. We also know that two days after that, is some kind of holy day for the dark elves. If you remember the last time they had a day like this, other than our guards, almost no elves were below decks. Derrick, you want to take it?"

The Derrick leaned forward "Most importantly, we've learned our old friend Dalieth, the Second Mate, has a reputation with the crew…"

"Fucking right" Kurt muttered. The rest made noises of agreement. The others remembered the time Dalieth had beaten three men near death in front of them. The other elves had laughed at his enthusiasm. The slaves hadn't.

"Right, he's a sadistic bastard, but that gives us a trick he won't see coming. He has the morning watches this week, so we'll have to make our move around dawn. Then comes the easy part…"

"Right, we get to the armoury then stroll topside, lower the boats and row our way to freedom" one of the crewmen said.

"Basically" Kurt said. The others nodded and Justice let out a humourless laugh. "Right, lets get some rest boys- and girl- we're going to need it." The rest of the group nodded and crawled off to their sleeping areas.

Derrick leaned back against the wall and looked at Kurt. "You think we'll make it out of this alive?"

Kurt shrugged "Does it really matter anymore? We're not going to spend eternity down here, that's for damn sure."

Goliuth leaned in "What you two going to do when you get to shore?" he asked.

Derrick sighed "Not this game again… keep moving, try to stay one step ahead of the law."

Kurt nodded "Right, for killing-err, sorry, for _handling_ that officer?" Derrick nodded silently. Goliuth chimed in "Hey, we've all got dark pasts. If you're running from bounty hunters, then you'll have to get in line behind me."

"Not me" Kurt said quietly "I'm going to do a little hunting of my own... I've got a score to settle." The three men all fell into silence, well aware that even if they escaped, their problems were far from over…

--

Kurt heaved the oar back another time, sweat pouring off his brow. He looked around, grunting.

_Any second now Kurt, you wait and see, they'll call a stop._

He pulled the oar again, the man next to him pulling in unison.

"Halt! Stow your oars immediately!" the slave-master called out suddenly. Sighs of relief came from all across the rowing benches, as the men pulled their long oars into the vessel. Once the long shafts of wood were slotted into the floor below, the slave-master yelled "Stand!"

Kurt stood, stretching, and looked down the line of slaves until he saw Derrick and Goliuth. This was it, the day of days. Everything had gone off well so far. Land had been sighted, and most of the elves now spent their time sleeping and praying quietly above decks. Kurt didn't know what damned god they were praying to, but he was on the verge of converting if his holy day helped them escape…

_Now all we need is Dalieth_… Kurt thought. He smiled when he saw the guards begin to make their way down the rows of slaves, but it quickly vanished. Second Mate Dalieth was nowhere to be seen. Kurt 

shuffled out into line with the other slaves as they were prodded toward the rear of the oar bay, toward the hold. He looked back at the others, in dismay.

There were six guards, there were supposed to be seven. Where was Dalieth? As they approached the end of the small hall, and the large hatch leading down into the hold, Kurt thought their plan had failed before it began. But then a familiar, high voice cut through the air.

"I'm in charge here! The slaves don't go down until I say!" Dalieth called, as he jogged down the oar bay to where the slaves were milling around the hatch. Kurt saw one of the guards prod another then mime sticking fingers in his ears.

_Damn right_… he thought.

The six guards herded the two dozen slaves, still wearing arm and leg chains, into the corner. The guards had long spears with wickedly barbed tips, and two held locked-and-loaded repeater crossbows- capable of firing ten arrows in ten seconds. Dalieth joined the other guards, his pinched face grinning. He waggled his keychain at the slaves.

"Didn't think you'd get past me, eh?" he said, grinning menacingly. He made his way over to the large hatch in the floor, and unlocked it. Kurt leaned over and looked down the hall into the oar bay- the only way out. The slave master was gone. The hatch opened with a creak, and Dalieth stepped back, gesturing to the other guards.

"Right, put the maggots in" he said, in that high voice of his. The guards moved down toward the hatch, forming a line from the group of slaves to the hole.

_Perfect_.

Kurt hung back and saw Derrick and Goliuth move to the front of the group.

"It's now or never" he whispered as the crowd shifted forward.

On his left and right were the lines of guards, three to a side, leading right to the hatch. Derrick and Goliuth approached the hatch, a guard next to each. In a flash, each man grabbed the guard nearest and shoved him hard, straight at the hatch. The guards tumbled into the slave hold with yells, their comrades springing into action. A guard lunged with his spear at Goliuth, but he danced aside, grabbing the spear and twisting the elf's charge so he flew into the hatch as wel. Derrick grabbed a guard in a bear hug, and pulled him into the hole with him. Both men disappeared into the hold.

As all this happened, Kurt had moved behind one of the elves bearing a crossbow. Now he dropped his chains over the elf's throat. With a sharp twist, his neck snapped. Dalieth turned in wonder as Kurt pulled the crossbow up, and shooting the guard next to him. The second mate let out a high pitched yell of alarm. Kurt leveled the crossbow, but the dark elf just grinned. "The whole crew will be down here. You've just earned yourself a quick death." Kurt grinned back "Didn't you hear? You have a reputation for making slaves scream. Everyone to hear cries for help, when you're on slave duty." The dark elf's face paled. Kurt put an arrow in both his eyes.

The rest of the slaves looked around in confusion, and Kurt pushed past, telling them to shut up. He approached the edge of the hatch, and looked down.

Below, the mangled bodies of the elf guards were being stripped by the twenty or so slaves below.

"Anyone hurt?" Kurt called down to Justice. She looked up smiling and shook her head "After I told everyone down here what was about to happen, these guards didn't stand a chance."

Looking back up, Kurt saw Goliuth had the other crossbow. He nodded "You ready?"

Kurt saw Derrick begin to climb over the edge of the hatch, and quickly unlocked the chains from his wrists and ankles, with Dalieth's keys.

""Right- you lot keep quiet. You stay here while me and Goliuth make sure the way to the armoury is clear. Unlock each other with the guards keys." He said to the other slaves, and then he and Goliuth sprinted down the hall. They ran past the oar benches, past the slave master's drum. Goliuth moved with a natural grace and stealth, pausing periodically whenever there was a creak or other noise. Kurt immediately admired his skills as a hunter. The Bretonnian had been ranger before their capture, and Kurt had spent his youth leading an outlaw band. They had been chosen as the two best choices as scouts for the group. They cautiously made their way through the room, what little light coming from a lantern hanging on the wall.

They finally came to the lone doorway. Kurt knew that beyond this was a hall, the left turn heading ten meters until it reached the ladder up to the main deck, the right leading deeper into the bowels of the ship. Goliuth tried turning latch slowly. It opened with a slight 'click'. Goliuth turned back toward Kurt nodding.

The two men sprang through the door, Goliuth going right, Kurt going left. Each man trained his crossbow on the end of his own hallway- there was no movement. After a few seconds, Kurt- his weapon still trained on his target- tapped Goliuth. Slowly they began moving deeper into the ship, each man still facing in opposite directions. Kurt heard voices above deck, but saw no movement on the ladder. After what seemed like an eternity, Goliuth tapped Kurt's leg twice- they had reached the armoury. Goliuth tried the latch, but it wouldn't budge. Kurt felt sweat bead on his brow. Each man remained silent.

Goliuth tried a few keys, finally hitting the right one. The door opened, and both men slipped inside quietly. Closing the door, they surveyed the room.

Horrible looking swords, spears, axes and crossbows were racked on the far wall. A dozen large barrels lined the wall to their left. Kurt moved to one, intent on searching for arrows, when he saw the bright hilt of Derrick's sword. Looking inside, Kurt grinned, turning back to Goliuth.

"It's better than we'd hoped, they've kept our equipment mate!" Goliuth smiled, looking back at the many barrels lining the wall.

Some minutes later, each man exited the room, this time wearing his own armour and armed with more familiar weapons. They still held crossbows- quick and silent weapons-, while Kurt cautiously made his way back up the hall, leaving Goliuth guarding the door to the armoury. He opened the door to the oar room, and waved at the others. Kurt went into a crouch, and covering his end of the hall.

Derrick led a line of eager looking slaves into the hall. Kurt put his finger to his lips, then indicated the direction of the armoury. Justice came and crouched beside him, while he continued to cover the ladder.

"Everything alright?" she whispered, her breath hot on his ear. He nodded, then motioned with his thumb toward the armoury. She disappeared behind him.

Kurt heard the line of slaves shuffling and whispering excitedly behind him, filing out of the oar bay to armoury. He saw the pale blue light of pre-dawn spilling onto the ladder in front of him. It seemed like an eternity had passed since killing the guards. The ship creaked beneath him, rocking with the motion of the waves. He wiped sweat from his brow.

_They must have noticed by now_. Kurt thought. _Or are they still praying there, the black hearted bastards-_

A foot suddenly appeared at the top of the ladder.

_Ohshitohshitohshit!_

An elf moved smoothly down the ladder, his back to Kurt. Kurt raised his right hand, waving it wildly, hoping that Goliuth saw. The elf reached the bottom of the ladder, and began to turn. Kurt was out of options, pulling the trigger. The repeater crossbow shuddered as an arrow slid from the large clip on top of it into the chamber. The taught bowstring released the arrow, slamming it into the side of the elf's head. He fell heavily, blood and brain spilling across the deck. Kurt looked back, and saw Goliuth and Derrick passing the line of slaves leading to the armoury. An armed group was with them, eager and ready. Kurt turned back and sprinted toward the ladder. He heard confused voices above and shadows moved. Dodging under the ladder, Kurt aimed at the hole above. A curious elf face started to look down at him, and Kurt tore his throat out with a well aimed arrow, sending the elf spinning out of sight.

Kurt felt his heart hammer against his rib cage as he climbed the short ladder up into the pre-dawn chill. Blue light bathed the black vessel, the sky brightening on the eastern horizon. A huge crowd of elves were gathered about forty meters ahead of Kurt, up toward the front of the vessel. They failed to notice both the escaped slave, and the body bleeding on the deck next to him. The crew knelt in orderly rows, facing a beautiful yet sinister looking woman at the prow of the ship. The woman wore skintight black robes, her silver hair whipping around her in the wind. She read in a quavering voice from a huge black book in her arms.

_She must be the one rebellious slaves were taken to, the Matriarch… but is she their captain, or some kind of priest?_ Before Kurt could decide, she looked up from the book, her gaze scanning across the elves before her. She suddenly stopped mid-sentence. His heart turned to ice. People stumbled up onto the deck behind him, but was too terrified to react. The entire crew of the dark elf vessel turned toward him, their black eyes filled with surprise and hatred. A scored of blades were torn from sheathes, the Matriarch glaring at him.

_I've been waiting a long time for this_- Kurt thought, pulling a pistol from his belt with his left hand, and leveling the crossbow with his right.

He yelled, firing into the crowd in front of him. Arrows sliced through the air, a burst of smoky light erupted from his pistol. Elves yelled and pushed at each other, trying to avoid his deadly aim. He saw arrows fly past from his left and right, and turned back, seeing Derrick, Dirk and Goliuth firing bows of their own. Kurt turned back with a grin, watching the mass of elves in front of him mill about chaotically. His bow finally empty, Kurt dropped it and his pistol, drawing his fencing sword and handaxe from his belt. The elves seemed to regain their courage and surged across the deck toward them.

"Someone run back and clear the aft deck!" he cried, backing toward his friends. The rear quarter of the ship's deck was raised eight feet, with two steep staircases at the far left and right. A waist high railing ran along the center. Most importantly, two large dinghies were secured to the rear of the ship. Kurt needed to defend the hatch long enough for most of the slaves to make it up onto the deck. Then they could fall back to the aft deck, and defend from the stairwells and railing until the boats were lowered.

Kurt backed into the line of freed slaves watching the elves close the distance toward them. "FORM UP! MAKE A LINE!!" Kurt yelled, immediately assuming command. The other slaves fell into place, forming a defensive line five meters in front of the ladder below decks.

_Just like leading the old outlaw band-_ he thought.

Derrick formed up beside him, his silver blade and shining shield at the ready. Their line looked nervously at the dark elves approaching.

"Don't tell me you haven't dreamed of this moment every second of captivity!" Kurt yelled at those around him. "Well my friends and I just risked our lives to give you this chance- this single shot at freedom. Remember vengeance! Remember every friend these black bastards beat and killed and 

maimed. Remember how you swore in the blackest pits of your soul that you'd make them pay! Remember home! Remember everything you've ever loved, your friends, your family, your sons and daughters. Wouldn't you do anything-ANYTHING- to tell them you loved them, one last time!?" He looked toward the elves, the front runners barely ten meters away now. "Remember! And if we die now, we do it with hate on our blades and love in our hearts!" He raised his sword high, ready to strike the dark elf in front of him- almost within range.

"FOR HOME AND VENGEANCE!!" he cried, as the two lines crashed together. The _Malkieth_ shuddered, as every slave- above and below decks- roared. They roared until their throats were raw and their eyes burned with tears of Horror and Rage and Hate and Sorrow- and Hope.

More than anything, they burned with Hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt's blade slashed into the face of the dark elf before him, his axe flying into the forehead of the one behind it. He unleashed a kick, sending the dying elf sprawling, and had to duck a sword-swipe at his head. He rammed into his attacker, knocking the elf to the ground. Kurt maintained is balance-barely- and parried a sword thrust to his belly. His foe's blade skittered to the deck, and Kurt spun his sword in a lightning-quick circle, severing the elf's extended hand before he could withdraw it.

Beside him, Derrick blocked a blow with his shield, stabbing an elf through the breastplate. He roared, striking with the edge of his round shield at an exposed neck to his right. With a sickening 'crunch!' the elf fell to the ground, clawing at his crushed throat. An axe slashed down from above. Derrick had no time to react, and fell backwards. The axe followed him, bearing down at Derrick's exposed face. It was all he could do to twist his head to the left at the last second. The black steel slammed into the deck inches from him, and quickly withdrew. Derrick pulled his shield up above him, and the axe clanged off it. It struck a second time, and a third and a fourth. Derrick slashed at his attacker's feet, and the elf fell to one knee before him. Seizing the initiative, Derrick spun his shield away, thrusting tip of his blade at the elf's face. He did not see if he struck the elf, but it fell back screaming, which was good enough for Derrick.

The line of slaves barely held against the press of the elves, fighting with ferocity born of desperation. Every time a slave fell, another was able to fill the gap just in time. In the close quarters of the ship's deck, the elves' numbers meant little. Still, the slaves were forced backwards, inching ever closer to the ladder-hatch.

Stealing a glance backward, Kurt saw slaves sprinting up the stairwells to the aft deck. Already, the railing was lined with men bearing repeater crossbows, firing at elves below. Goliuth was quickly organizing the slaves into defensive positions. An elf spear stabbed at Kurt's head, and he ducked right. Instead of pressing the attack, the elf tried to shove his way past Kurt, intent on breaking the line. Kurt 

and the elf grappled in close, neither able to bring his weapon to bear so close to one-another. Dirk moved in suddenly from Kurt's left, trying to pull the elf off him. Before Kurt could shout warning, another elf was behind the sailor, a dagger in his hand. Dirk had just peeled the elf's arms from Kurt, when the blade pierced his back.

"AGGHHH!" Dirk yelled, trying to spin away from the blow. He and the elf remained locked in a tight embrace, and Kurt was knocked down. He watched with dismay, as the two spun over the open hatch, and disappeared below, taking a slave who had been on the ladder with them. The last time Kurt saw Dirk, the sailor's face was strangely peaceful- resigned to his fate. Too late, Kurt regained his feet, trying to plug the hole in the line. Elves pushed through, and the slaves began to falter.

"We're done for! Retreat!" Kurt yelled, defending Derrick from an elf who had circled behind him. The slave line broke, Kurt and Derrick sprinting past the ladder hatch. The dark elves surged forward, cutting down slaves left and right. Kurt felt a pang of sorrow for the slaves still below decks, but there was nothing he could do for them now. Elves swarmed around the ladder, hacking down at slaves still trying to climb up. Derrick made it to eight foot high wall beneath the railing, and he saw there was no time to dash for one of the stairwells to his left and right. He fell to one knee as Kurt sprinted ahead of the elves, cupping his hands low. Kurt leaped, planting his foot in his Derrick's ready hands. Derrick heaved up, sending the man flying up to the railing, and spun his shield up in time to meet a dark elf blade. Kurt hooked his arm around the railing at the apex of his leap, and stabbed at an elf charging at Derrick's left.

"HELP!" Kurt called.

"On it!!" Goliuth replied, standing at the head of the archers at the railing.

A dozen arrow shafts slammed into the charging line of dark elves, stopping them cold. Kurt heaved, flipping over the railing. Crossbow strings twanged, arrow boxes clattered as they quickly unloaded, and 

Kurt tossed his weapons to the ground behind him. He leaned over the rail, grabbed Derrick by his armpits, and heaved the still slashing and parrying man up. Goliuth pulled Kurt back, and the three men spilled onto the aft deck. Slaves quickly moved into the gap, stabbing down at the elves with swords and spears.

Kurt and the others got onto their feet, looking around. Two knots of slaves crowded each of the stairways, and a large press stood at the railing. Spears, arrows and swords held the dark elves at bay, and there was no room to reach the fighting, so the three leaders took a moment's pause.

"You alright?" Goliuth asked, looking over at the slaves holding the railing. A large gash was across Derrick's forehead, and his silver mithril was covered with blood, but otherwise he seemed alright. "Next time Kurt stays below to fight, and I get the boost up" he said, breathing heavily.

"We lost Dirk" Kurt said, looking at the others. There was a moment's solemn paused.

"Justice is alright for the moment, she's lowering the boats right now" Goliuth said. Kurt nodded in approval.

"We planned on holding the ladder longer, we don't have enough men. The elves will overwhelm us too fast." Goliuth said.

"And what are we going to do about the sails? Dirk was supposed to get up the rigging and cut them down. Even if we make it to the boats, the elves will just follow and run us down!" Derrick said, a note of failure in his voice.

"We can't get to the sails now, the mast is in the middle of the deck! You feel like wading back through the elves to get to it?!" Goliuth replied.

"We can burn it!" Derrick suddenly said, looking at an oil lantern nearby. Kurt looked around, and saw there were a half dozen lit lanterns hanging around them. His gaze fell on a taught rope, which led up over the elves below, to the sails high above the middle of the ship.

"Right, you two set arrows on fire or throw the lanterns at the sail or something. I'll uhh…be with you shortly." Kurt heard the others call after him as he jogged to the rear of the deck, leaning over the rail. He saw Justice standing in a boat below, and she held a rope that led to another a little ways off.

"Heads up!" Kurt called down. Justice looked up, her brown hair blowing in the wind, her dark eyes confused. Kurt pulled his shoulder guards and breastplate off. Before she could say anything, he tossed the heavy armour into the boat below. Justice fell down as the boat rocked.

"Are you insane, you could hav-"

"No time precious!" Kurt replied, as his bearskin cloak draped itself over Justice's head. Kurt turned away, shirtless, his tattered slave's leggings his only clothing. Picking up his sword and axe from the deck, he sheathed the axe in his belt, but kept the blade ready.

He found Derrick and Goliuth standing near the rear of the deck, trying to figure out a massive ballistae. The great black crossbow was chest high, and dozens of spear-length shafts lined the deck next to it. Kurt noticed an oil lantern fixed to the tip of the spear currently in the weapon, and before he began to speak, it fired. There was a massive 'THRUM!' and the spear sliced through the air. Kurt turned, and saw it tear directly into the massive grey sails hanging over the middle of the deck. The lantern broke, spilling its fiery contents across the canvas.

"Good thinking!" Kurt said.

"Where's your armour?" Derrick yelled back, loading another bolt.

"Get as many lamps into the sails as you can, then get overboard. I think the line's about to break."

"Where are you going?" Goliuth asked. Kurt grasped the taught rope he had noted earlier with one hand, his sword in the other.

"Up!" he replied.

With that, Kurt sliced the bottom of the rope from the railing. High up, near the top of the ship's mast, a small yet heavy sail began to unfurl in the morning wind. Kurt felt the rope tug and then he was in the air. He flew out and up, over the slaves at the railing, over the bewildered elves below, towards the mast. Like a swashbuckling hero he ascended through the air, almost touching the mainsail. The canvas flapped in the wind, flames licking across its length. Kurt was up amongst the rigging in a matter of seconds, the entire ship spread out beneath him like a model. As he slowed, he planted his feet along the wooden spur at the top of the mainsail, and hugged the great, black mast- letting go of the rope. The wind buffeted him, but he had no time to stop. Kurt spied the huge ropes which ran along the spur beneath him, securing the sail. Grabbing a hanging rope for balance, he danced across the wood, slashing beneath him with his sword. Arrows whizzed by his head, the bright light of dawn almost blinded him, and wind whipped through his hair, but Kurt would not stop. Parts of the sail now free, the canvas began to shudder and whip beneath him. He cut another rope, and felt the wood jerk as the great weight was released. He looked up and out, at the far end of the wood spur- just one rope left.

Kurt hesitated and looked down the dizzying distance, saw the blue ocean and the black ship below, saw the clashing of slaves and dark elves. He saw another bolt tear throught the sail, saw the flames brighten in the wind. He looked out, saw Justice and the boats, slowly drifting away from the ship. And looking out, over the horizon, Kurt thought he could see the coast, see the Empire, see freedom.

Letting go of the rope above, he sprinted out across the spur. His steel slashed, catching and cutting the fibers of the rope beneath him. As he lost his balance, he leapt, flying far out over the sea.

The main sail of the ship- half consumed by fire- suddenly fell abruptly toward the ship, pulling pieces of wood and dozens of ropes with it. Goliuth and Derrick were pulling their men back, urging them over the side of the ship.

As the wind filled it, the great sail billowed out across front of the ship, the flames burning more and more fiercely. The elves looked up in shock and horror as the canvas spread over the deck like some terrible, flaming blanket. Their screams were muffled by the roar of the fire as it engulfed them, the full weight of the massive, thick sail coming down on them. Whatever dry tinder there was, whatever wood or rope or pitch it could find, the fire consumed.

The elves at the rear of the ship pushed forward, trying desperately to escape the flames. Derrick leaned over the rail, searching frantically for where Kurt had gone in the water- but then Goliuth kicked him overboard. The ranger dove in after his friend, and seconds later was followed by dozens of frenzied elves.

Flames tore across the decks, the screams of burning elves greeting the dawn like some terrible sacrifice.

Goliuth pulled himself onto the boat, splashing water inside. Justice tried to steady the dingy, as Derrick pulled himself in seconds later, coughing. The water was choked with the bodies of men and elves- some living, some dead.

"Grab an oar and get us the hell out of here!" Goliuth yelled, as another man pulled himself into the boat. Derrick- unable to find an oar- pulled up his round shield and rowed frantically. Hands grasped for 

the boat from all around, and Derrick flinched as he struck them from the side of the boat. He rowed frantically, trying to avoid knots of men so he wouldn't have to deny them passage.

"Where's the other- oh gods" Derrick said, as he saw the other dinghy. The boat rode perilously low in the water, and was overflowing with men. As he rowed, Derrick saw men who moments before had fought elves side-by-side, beating each other for a spot on board. The boat rocked as someone was thrown overboard, and an edge dipped below the water.

"Row harder!" Derrick yelled. His eyes stung with tears, though whether they were from the smoke of the burning ship, or from watching the crowded second boat sink beneath the waves, he couldn't say.

Slowly, surely, the survivors thinned, until they found themselves alone on the water. Derrick looked back, and saw _Malkieth_ shrinking in the distance behind them. A plume of black smoke rose from the black ship, orange flames consuming it. Derrick heard a faraway crash, as the mast finally tumbled onto the ship below. He breathed heavily. He saw the sun burning over the horizon.

He looked at Goliuth. The other man's face was grim, his body covered in blood and soot. Justice sobbed next to him, her head in her hands. Their final shipmate sat nearby, a short man with tanned, worn face. Their small boat rocked on the waves.

Derrick shook his head "So many…we saved so many," he looked up "and only four of us survive?" he let out a sob of despair.

"I tried to look for Kurt…" Goliuth said, his normally cold voice suddenly quiet.

Their boat rocked gently. Behind them, the dark elf reaver _Malkieth_ slipped beneath the waves. A yell echoed over the water, and the group turned toward the sound.

A lone swimmer was outdistancing the other survivors from the ship, heading directly for them.

"I guess we'll have to start rowing again" said Goliuth.

"Its only one person, surely we can afford to let them aboard" Justice asked. Goliuth frowned down at her tear streaked face. "First its one, then another- how long until we go under too?"

"Goliuth, we all know the dangers, but letting one man aboard won't kill us" Derrick said. The swimmer was closing fast, and as he approached, Derrick let out a whoop of disbelief.

"It's Kurt!! It's fucking KURT!!" he said. Before the others could respond, he dived overboard. He met the other man quickly, and supported him in the water. The reached the side of the boat and were hauled on board.

The mood quickly turned to one of celebration as the others patted Kurt on his soaking back.

"How the hell-"

"Jumping off the rigging-"

"-the stupidest man I've-"

Kurt only nodded in reply. He gasped for breath, scrabbling around the bottom of the boat. He found his great bear cloak, pulled it up to his chin, and leaned back. "I uhh….think I'm going to pass out…wake me when we reach land"

And with that, he was unconscious.


	4. Chapter 4

It took most of the day until the small party reached shore. They made landfall in a cove, beaching their boat on the rocky shore. Trees lined the beach as far as the eye could see, a dark foreboding forest on the edge of the water. Exhausted and sunburned, it was all they could do to find comfortable spots and rest. The sun was low in the sky when Derrick roused himself. Looking left, he saw Goliuth crouched around a small fire, feeding it branches.

"Now there's a sight" Derrick said, sitting on a large boulder near the flames. Goliuth looked past him "Indeed it is." Turning his head, Derrick saw black smoke still spiraling into the sky, above the smoldering hull of _Malkieth. _She was far away now, but still barely visible.

_In a way, I'll never escape…_

He shuddered. The air seemed to have turned much colder since morning.

He turned back to Goliuth. "I hope it doesn't get any colder…all I've got is my mail and leggings to warm me."

Goliuth rubbed the dark growth on his face, squinting. He wore a thick wool cloak he had taken from the ship's armoury- suddenly a very intelligent choice. "That's a mithril shirt you've got, isn't it. The shield too." It wasn't a question so much as a statement.

Derrick raised an eyebrow. "You're right, it is. How did you know?""

"Well, you didn't sink like a stone when you swam to the boat, that was my first clue." Goliuth threw a large stick in the fire. "The second is I'm wearing a coat of my own under this cloak. And just to let you know, summer's all but over now. Autumn's here. It'll only get colder."

_Not a very positive chap, is he?_

"Great." Derrick replied. The two fell silent, focusing instead on the warmth of the fire. Goliuth was right, as evening fell the air became cooler. Derrick hugged himself. Goliuth started at him in interest after these began, saying nothing. After a pause, he stood and walked away. Derrick frowned, sitting closer to the fire.

_Black bastard, wearing that damn cloak of his...I'm going to freeze to death._

Derrick's teeth began to chatter. He looked over the small patch of sand where the others slept.

_I could curl up with someone for warmth…Kurt has a that bear cloak, that'd be warm. Then again, Justice has…herself._

He chuckled. Goliuth suddenly appeared from his left, and dropped an armful of dry branches on the fire. He sat down without a word.

"Uhh…thanks" Derrick said, bathing in the growing warmth.

"The fire was dying" was all Goliuth said in response.

As the sun began to set, Derrick heard Kurt suddenly bark out "Ho! Is that a fire?" He seemed either unaware or uncaring that he had woken the other two sleepers. The three joined Derrick and Goliuth around the fire. Derrick couldn't see the _Malkieth _anymore, it's plume of smoke was disappearing.

_I wonder if it's finally sunk. I hope so._

Wrapped in his cloak, Kurt didn't seemed phased by the cold air. The other two were not so lucky, and knelt before the fire like Derrick had when he first saw it. Derrick's eyes fell on the stranger who had made it off the ship. He was a short, tanned man with hard features and a hairy face and chest. Derrick had not heard him say a word since their escape.

"Err, what was your name again?" Derrick asked him. The man looked up with his weather-beaten features.

"I am Lex. Short for Alexander Zenlinko Purtyovich" the man said in a thick Kislevite accent. Derrick nodded, and the man returned his attention to the fire.

"What ship did you come from?" Derrick asked.

The man's eyes didn't leave the fire. "The black one."

Derrick raised his eyebrows.

"What my friend means, is which ship were you on before the _Malkieth_. Were you on _Sigmar's Comet_ or _The Star of the North_?" Kurt tried. The man looked up at him in annoyance.

"Vhich ship were you ons?" he replied.

Kurt raised an eyebrow "_Sigmar's Comet_ we were all on _Sigmar's Comet_."

Alexander smiled, showing yellow teeth. "So sorry, my Empire-speak…its not so good, ya? I was on the other- the star-of-north."

Derrick nodded, satisfied.

Justice moaned low in her throat "You didn't find anything to eat, did you Goliuth?"

The ranger shook his head, but pointed away from the beach, toward the forest.

"A short walk past that boulder is a stream- I found where it empties into the sea down the beach. You can drink your fill of water if you need."

Justice sighed and nodded. Derrick could relate, feeling his own pangs of hunger.

"As long as we keep the good and hot, we should be fine tonight." Kurt said.

Justice looked up at him, frowning "So says the man with the bearskin cloak."

Kurt pulled it off from around his shoulders, and handed it over to her. She eagerly pulled it around her.

Goliuth stood up abruptly "At dawn I'm going to follow the stream northeast. Anyone who wants to head that way with me is welcome to." With that, he headed toward the beached boat.

"Not very social, is he?" Justice said once he was out of earshot. For the first time since their escape, Derrick saw her grin. It was a quick, mischievous smile, but it warmed his heart to see it. It was gone as speedily as it came.

"My thoughts exactly" Derrick agreed. "He definitely lacks tact."

Kurt frowned in disapproval "Goliuth gets the job done. I for one am going with him tomorrow. You all can do what you like." Kurt folded his arms in annoyance and shut his eyes.

Derrick felt like an idiot He wanted to say something, but Kurt interrupted him, his eyes still closed

"Derrick, you take the first watch!"

Derrick closed his mouth, and looked at Justice. She raised her eyebrows, somewhat embarrassed. She lay herself down, wrapped in Kurt's heavy cloak. Derrick's eyes met with Alexander's for a moment. He saw something unpleasant in the man's eyes. A hunger...

_You've just been in a horrible battle, stop worrying._

The Kislevite man leaned back and closed his eyes. The fire crackled in the night. Derrick got up and returned later with more wood. He sat down heavily, looking into the fire. His breath misted in the air in 

front of him. Above, the stars came out one by one. The white moon Mannsleib shone down, its dark twin Morrsleib a pale shadow, lurking, waiting...

--

"Where do you think we are?" Derrick asked, stepping over a large tree root. All around loomed the dark wilds of the forest. Great stands of oak and maple, dark leaves spotted with gold and red. The arching silhouettes of trees surrounded them, like some primordial cathedral. Derrick looked at the stream, winding its way through the dark wood.

Kurt stood a few meters ahead, looking up at the canopy above. He was wearing his silver breastplate and steel strip shoulder-guards, covered by his huge bearskin cloak. His tattered leggings were held up by his sword belt. Goliuth crouched a little ways upstream, looking away into the mist shrouded forest.

"We travelled for over a month on that damn hell-ship, but I'd wager we're still in the Empire somewhere. Nordland or Ostland."

"But either way, we probably have a hundred miles of forest in every direction" Goliuth muttered back at them.

Derrick shook his head "I know all the different battle formations of an infantry regiment, I've held the line against armoured cavalry. My father was a physician, he taught me so well I knew more about wounds and diseases than our battalion surgeon did. But for the life of me, I'm as useful as a newborn in these woods…"

"I don't know, a newborn could be useful in the deep woods" Goliuth said, coming back towards them. "You know, as bear-bait." he finished, smirking. The ranger's dark-elf cloak enveloped him like a black cloud. Derrick gave him the finger.

Splashing footsteps signaled the arrival of Justice and Alexander. Derrick saw Goliuth scowl, and had to suppress a smile.

_Not stalking through the woods like an assassin must drive him nuts._

Alexander was shirtless, taut muscular chest covered with a sheen of sweat. A black shortsword hung from his waist. Justice was laughing at something he'd said, and wore a tattered brown shift the dark elves had given her.

Kurt looked up with a frown "Are we on a pleasure stroll here?"

Alexander held up his hands. "Coom on Kurt, I am trying to make the lady smile. We are free now, hey?"

Justice grinned and put on a mock Kislevite accent "Yeah 'coom on Kurt'. I mean we don't have shoes, I don't get how you guys walk so fast." Kurt shook his head in annoyance. The entire morning Justice had lagged, and Alexander with her. They had made agonizingly slow time, and more than once Goliuth had suggested leaving the others behind.

Kurt sighed "You two look tired, we'll rest here for another-"

Goliuth interrupted, grunting loudly.

Kurt looked at him and continued more loudly "We'll rest here for another few minutes. I bet we find the river this stream branches off within a half mile."

"Where'd you get that?" Goliuth said with a scoff.

"You may be the better hunter and tracker, but I've spent a decade hiding in forests like these. Trust me we should cross here, the river's a half mile upstream."

Kurt turned out to be right. The river was wide, grey and slow-moving. Mist clung to its surface, mirroring the cloudy sky above. Kurt had only begun to gloat, when Alexander spotted the boat. It was small and shallow bottomed, and sat further upstream. Two men sat in it, holding large nets.

"Ahoy!" Justice called, waving.

"Would have been nice to talk that over" Goliuth muttered.

The two men looked at them, then back to each other. They huddled together for a long time.

"Why not they come?" Alexander asked, looking annoyed.

"We look haggard, they must think we're bandits or cultists." Derrick said.

Kurt cupped his hands around his mouth "We don't want trouble, could you just point us toward the nearest settlement?"

The two men conversed for another few minutes. One sat up and pointed downstream.

"Thank you!" Kurt said, waving. He looked back at the others with a wink "Looks like town is upstream."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the great feedback gang. I'll definitely be keeping your suggestions in mind as I try to improve my writing. Sorry about any paragraph-spacing problems in earlier chapters, I think it was an upload-glitch issue. I'll proof read more thoroughly in future before posting. Keep the reviews coming!**

**-RB**

The hamlet of sat the edge of the river, a small dock jutting out into the water. After having to swim across to reach the village, Derrick was able to quickly size it up. A dozen or so squat hovels and log cabins were scattered haphazardly in the man-made clearing. A wall of sharpened logs separated the town from the forest, built on a raised bank of earth so the tips reached even higher than surrounding trees. Smoke curled through the air from chimneys, while women tended to small vegetable gardens or did other menial work. As the group slowly made their way past the first hovel, Derrick noted dozens of stumps scattered around the muddy area. Clearly the town had been recently carved out from the forest, which still loomed on the periphery.

"Leave the talking to me" Kurt muttered to the others. Already people were whispering and rushing from hovel to hovel. The group arrived in a small clearing which was roughly situated in the center of the settlement. A large, carved wooden hammer stood upright in the middle of the clearing. It was roughly done, clearly the work of an amateur, but Derrick could still make out the distinctive markings of the patron God of the Empire, Sigmar.

"Should we lay down our weapons?" Justice asked.

Kurt said "Depends what kind of welcome we're like to receive. Right now it could go either way."

A throng of people were gathering to their left, standing outside what was easily the biggest building in the area. A two-story tall log cabin, it looked like the only building which might actually have something interesting inside. The mob of people shifted, and a tall muscular man with a shaggy beard began leading them toward the newcomers. He had a determined look on his face, and rested a large blacksmith's hammer on his left shoulder. Most of the two dozen people were men with suspicious looking faces, and long hair- armed with picks and wood-axes. More than a few dirty children tagged along behind the others.

The townsfolk came to a halt a few meters away from Derrick and the others. The two groups sized each other up warily for a few moments, before Kurt spoke up.

"Greetings and well met. May the light of Sigmar shine upon you and yours."

Derrick heard whispers pass amongst the crowd.

The man at the head of the townsfolk nodded his head. "Fine words. We have little use for their kind out here in the Forest of Shadows, lest' they come from friends. Are ye friend, or foe?"

_The Forest of Shadows_!_ We _are_ still in the Empire._

Kurt pondered a few moments "If we were thieves or bandits, I doubt we'd easily admit it to you. All I can do is say that we are _not_ either of these, and hope you'll believe me. We are but weary travelers seeking aid- recently slaves on a dark elf ship."

More than a few people laughed at that. Derrick ground his teeth together, as the lead man looked at Kurt appraisingly for a few heartbeats. "We know well enough of the black devils that raid the coast, but I've never heard of any escaping them."

Kurt grinned "That's because we didn't escape. We sank them to the bottom of the deep. Any of you who visited the shore recently may have seen the smoke."

The lead man hefted his hammer, and Derrick grasped the hilt of his sword reflexively. But the man simply planted its head in the ground and leaned on the shaft.

"Do you have any _proof_ that you're anything more than thieves who we should chase back into the woods?

Kurt turned and pointed to Goliuth's blade. The ranger reluctantly unsheathed the weapon and handed it to him. Kurt hunched over and tossed it to the ground between the two groups.

"A child could guess at who makes swords that look like that, but just to be safe, you try and tell me what kind of metal that that is."

Derrick saw Kurt's line of reasoning- the leader had the look of a smith about him, letting him use his expertise would reassure him of their validity. The smith inspected the blade in wonder, other members of the village reaching out to touch it. An old woman made the sign of the Hammer over her chest. The leader looked back at them.

"I've never seen nor heard of anything like this" he muttered.

"We'd be willing to hand over our other weapons in exchange for shelter. We have no coin, but two of us are good hunters, and young Derrick here is as strong as an ox." Kurt said, slapping Derrick abruptly on the back. The leader looked at those behind him, then back at the newcomers.

"You give us your weapons and armour, and we let you stay. But at the first sign of trouble from you- ANY of you- and you fend for yourselves in the wood."

Kurt nodded, satisfied, and began to unbuckle his armour. Derrick reluctantly pulled his sleeveless chainmail coat over his head, feeling embarrassed to be shirtless in front of so many people.

"We apologize for our appearance- as we said, we were galley slaves for a long time."

"My name is Magnus. There's usually a spare room up in the Longhouse for any travelers who come by. It's full right now, so you'll have to sleep on the floor."

"That sounds fine" Kurt said. The tension began to ebb away from the encounter, and men came forward to take their weapons and armour. Derrick eyed the ugly man who gripped his sword and mail. "These are heirlooms. If they mysteriously disappear in the night, then so do you" he said. The man nodded fearfully and scuttled away. They followed Magnus as he led them towards the Longhouse. The villagers began to disperse, but some of the children and a few men still followed at a distance.

Magnus led them into the smoky confines of the Longhouse. The building was essentially one big room, with something resembling stairs leading up to a doorway above. Another two doors on the ground floor led away from the main hall, one wide open. Three long tables with benches dominated the center of the room, all hewn from dark oak. A large fireplace sat at one end of the hall, its smoke disappearing into a large stone chimney, which Derrick surmised led out the side of the building. Animal-skin rugs of a dozen types littered the floor, and the heads to go with them were mounted across the walls. Deer, elk, bear and boar heads, and hides, were scattered throughout the room.

"Becca, bring some bread and ale, there are more travelers!" Magnus called at the open doorway. He sat himself at a large chair at the head of the central table, his back to the fire. His hammer thumped to the floor next to him. He motioned with his hand, and the others sat at the table near him. A few of the 

village men had followed and seated themselves at the far end of the bench. Derrick sat himself down next to Goliuth.

"So, what be your names?" Magnus asked.

"I'm Kurt, this is Goliuth, Derrick, Justice and Alexander." Each person nodded in turn as their name was called.

"Garth, round up some spare clothes for these fellers, would ya? They're puttin' us to shame what with all them muscles." Magnus winked good heartedly, and Derrick immediately warmed to the man.

One of the villagers at the end of the table nodded, and headed outside. The fire cracked loudly in the background. Kurt leaned forward, and began to tell the story of _Sigmar's Comet_, and how they came to escape the _Malkieth_. About halfway through the tale, a woman- presumably Becca- appeared from what Derrick realized was the kitchen, with a large tray of bread and cheese. She set it down and returned moments later with flagons of cool water to wash them down. Derrick had never tasted a better meal in his life. On the elf ship they had subsisted on a thin gruel served twice a day. He gulped down the water with a gusto and ate his fill of bread and cheese. Kurt finished their story between mouthfuls, finally coming to the fishermen who pointed them in the wrong direction.

The villagers laughed loudly. "That'll be Matthias and Tim. Hehe, they prolly thought they were right smart, to point you the wrong way. How did they look when you walked past them, headed right towards town?"

"Not very happy" Derrick said. More laughter filled the air. Garth appeared at the door, his arms full of brown woolen garments.

"Was able to find one of Maybel's ol' dresses for the lady, and there was more 'n enough shirts and leggings for the men. Long as you don't mind brown." He said, laughing.

Magnus stood up from his chair. "Well, luncheon was free, as guest-right says it should be, but dinner an the clothing will cost ya. We always need more trees cleared from around the walls, and if you two are as good hunters as you said, I'll give you a lend of my old bow. Could do with some meat for tonight, seeing as we have so many strangers vistin'."

The men began to stand and disperse. Derrick held back for a moment, looking at Magnus.

"Who are the other visitors?"

Magnus raised an eyebrow "Right strange folk, they make you lot look tame. One's a wizard!"


	6. Chapter 6

The village was called Hammerfast, in recognition of the man-God Sigmar. An ancient warlord, Sigmar had united the tribes of wild men against the hordes of Chaos, beating them back into the northern wastes. With his great hammer, he had forged the nation which would one day be called 'the Empire' and had eventually ascended into Godhood. Now his legacy was honoured by hamlets like Hammerfast.

Derrick learned that the settlement was relatively young, it had been founded in this corner of Ostland only fifteen years ago. Magnus told him the villagers had all once lived together in a larger town upriver, Schlienville. It was a prosperous place, but mired in generations-old family feuds. The nobility constantly fought over petty land-claims and resource rights, caring little for the havoc they reeked on the lives of the peasantry. Magnus became fed up, and he and some friends found a site downriver from which to carve out new lives. The population consisted of fifty souls. They lived a basic but rewarding existence, supplementing some small crops with abundant fish and game.

Magnus was the village's resident smith and de facto leader, but if he relished power he hid it well. Magnus spent most of his time in his small smithy, located behind the Longhouse, repairing iron tools and the like. It was as close to freedom as most men would ever know, and Derrick found himself growing fond of Hammerfast.

Derrick spent his days working under the supervision of villager Garth. They joined other men in clearing the area surrounding the village wall of trees and brush. Already a swathe of exposed earth surrounded the palisade, supporting small stands of wheat, barley and corn. The villagers constantly worked to push the forest back and give themselves more room for farming. Garth estimated that in another ten years the village would be able to survive entirely off crops. Compared to the great rolling fields of the central provinces, these patches seemed pathetically small; yet they were sufficient for such a small population to survive on.

Hard nourishing bread and goat's cheese fuelled the day's work, with dinner consisting of fish or deer-meat. Derrick and the villagers hacked at brush with sickles and axes, chopped down small trees, and spent two afternoons digging a large stump from the earth. The work was hard, the hours were long, but Derrick relished every moment of it. With each passing day he regained what strength he had lost during his long, hard stay aboard the _Malkieth_.

Justice found work with the other women of the village, helping them with their washing and gardening. The sight of her smiling dirt-smeared face at dinner became the highlight of Derrick's days. Hammerfast also worked an unexpected changed upon her demeanor. Justice had always been good-natured and quick to laugh, but she had also been reserved and spoken little to Derrick, aboard the _Malkieth_. Now she spoke up at every meal, always weighing in with her opinion on a variety of subjects. Her quick wit made her well-liked amongst the villagers, and their evenings always ended in raucous laughter.

Derrick occasionally saw the Kislevite, but the two didn't converse much. Alexander spent little time working, disappearing for extended periods. Sometimes he went into the forest alone and unarmed, which was extremely dangerous. Kurt warned Alexander the first time he did this, but the Kislevite had not heeded the advice. The only person with whom he seemed to get along, was Justice. For some reason Derrick could not discern, the woman had taken a liking to the mysterious foreigner. Derrick couldn't help but feel his hackles rise every time he saw the two of them together. He once asked Justice what she saw in the man. Justice had raised an eyebrow and shrugged "He knows what he wants." She had held Derrick's eyes with her own for a few moments. "You could learn a thing or two from Alex."

To his annoyance, Derrick did not get to meet the wizard Magnus had spoken of until almost two weeks had passed. He learned that the strange travelers were camped at some nearby ruins in the forest, and returned only periodically. They had reserved the room in the Longhouse for the duration, however, forcing Derrick and his companions to sleep on the hard floor.

The evening Derrick first encountered the wizard began much like any other. The villagers gathered for the evening at the Longhouse, serving a communal meal at its three broad tables. Tonight's dining was special, as Goliuth had successfully killed a wild boar with Magnus' bow. The great beast was spit over the roaring fireplace and cooked until its skin crackled with juices. Magnus had insisted Goliuth take his seat at the head of the table to honour the prestigious catch. He had reluctantly agreed and Derrick had to smile as the ranger shifted uncomfortably in the chair, suddenly the center of attention. Alexander was nowhere to be seen, which suited Derrick just fine.

Magnus handed Derrick a crude wood plate with a steaming portion of boar-meat. Derrick's mouth watered at the sight. He had to stop himself biting into the meat immediately, but next to him Kurt had no such qualms. The big man reached for a loaf of bread, but Justice reached across the table and slapped his hand away.

"Wait for the prayer!" she said frowning.

Kurt held up his hands "Sorry, I forgot."

Justice narrowed her eyes "A likely story."

Terrence, a villager whose father had been a priest, stood and told everyone to quiet down. The bustling talk subsided and everyone bowed their heads. "May Sigmar's light shine upon those gathered here tonight, and may Rhya's bounty breathe life into our crops this coming harvest. Amen."

After a chorus of "amens" there began the clatter of plates and the sound of conversation. Kurt reached for bread again, but Justice grabbed it away first.

"If you weren't so damn pretty I'd slap you" Kurt muttered.

Derrick chuckled and lifted a piece of meat with his fingers. A gust of air cooled the back of his neck, and he heard the front door open with a bang. Derrick looked back over his shoulder at the newcomer. Out of the darkness stepped a tall man wrapped in a large cloak, his face hidden in the deep hood. He bore a tall staff of smooth black wood in his right hand, and reached up to pull down the hood with his left. He revealed a deeply tanned face, curly hair and probing-green eyes. High cheekbones, a strong chin were highlighted by a very small, sharp goatee and immaculately tidy moustache. The man nodded to the onlookers, and closed the door behind him. The room had suddenly become deathly quiet. As the man made his way briskly across the room, Magnus left his seat and walked towards the newcomer. Everything about the man had an exotic tinge, from his clothing and appearance, to the way he held himself. Derrick's suspicions were confirmed, when the stranger addressed Magnus in a lilting accent.

"Good evening Herr Gotte" he said to Magnus in near perfect Reikspiel, the language of the Empire.

"Good to see you again Herr Trealub-Treala-uhh…" Magnus faltered.

The man rolled his eyes and made a theatrical sigh of annoyance. " It's Trealubhumen. One must question my grandfather's decision to combine his own Imperial name with that of his Estalian wife. Perhaps it had something to do with his being wanted for bribery..."

Magnus shifted somewhat uncomfortably as the man kept talking. Derrick had never seen the man so ill at ease. Even when he had firs dealt Derrick and the others, he had seemed quit sure of himself.

_But this man from Estalia seems to phase him. I suppose he must be the wizard, although he hardly looks like I thought he would._

Trealubhumen was on an entirely different subject now. Magnus was nodding vigorously and trying to keep up. The buzz of conversation began to resume once more at the tables, as Derrick turned back to Justice.

"He doesn't look much like a wizard" Derrick muttered.

Justice tore her eyes away from Trealubhumen, to frown at Derrick. "And how would you know what one looked like?"

Derrick grinned "I killed one, remember?"

"And the rest of us decided he was an apprentice wizard at best" Kurt mumbled through a mouthful of boar meat.

"No problem Herr Trealubhumen, we can bring up your meal right-quick!" Magnus said, with a forced smile. The wizard nodded in satisfaction, flicking a coin in the air. He didn't seem to care that the coin didn't land anywhere near Magnus, who was forced to bend over to pick it up. With that, Trealubhumen walked briskly toward the staircase without a backward glance, disappearing upstairs.

Magnus immediately dropped his fake smiled and stomped off toward the kitchen, muttering in annoyance.

"Seems like Magnus wants to keep Tealubhumen happy" Justice said.

"Usually a good policy with wizards…and women" Kurt said. Justice and Derrick both looked toward him at once.

Kurt nodded tilted his at Justice. "You remember that Derrick."


	7. Chapter 7

**I know this took a long time, hopefully my next chapter will come out faster. Thanks for all the support and reviews!**

It was at breakfast the next morning when Derrick met the wizard. The travelers took breakfast together, dividing along the usual social lines. Kurt, Derrick and Goliuth sat at the end of one long table, Justice and Alexander further away. Derrick tasted a spoonful of porridge, then nodded in approval. Footsteps echoed down the stairway, and the wizard appeared moments later. He wore the same green robes as the night before. Derrick noted once again that they were finely woven of expensive cloth. The smooth black staff thumped along the floor, as the wizard made his way toward the kitchen. He returned sometime later with his own breakfast, and was about to take a seat alone, when Kurt waved at him.

"Please sir, take your meal with us."

The wizard looked at Kurt with an annoyed expression, then back to his intended table. Kurt waved again, and with a theatrical sigh the wizard approached them.

"What's this about?" Goliuth asked.

"A job that doesn't involve cutting wood or stalking deer." Kurt whispered. The wizard nodded to them, and took a seat close- but not too close- to the men.

"I'm Kurt, this is Goliuth here, and that's Derrick. We're travelers who…uhh…got blown off course, you might say."

Derrick stared at the wizard's green eyes, which were even more striking up close. They seems to swirl and shift, reminding him of the sea. The wizard replied "A pleasure, to be sure. I am Victor Trealubhumen, of the Bilbali Trealubhumens."

No one quite knew how to respond to that.

"Can't say I've heard of your family" Kurt said, after a few moments.

"Extraordinary, an Imperial commoner hasn't heard of my foreign family. I'll have to alert the army at once!" Victor replied, in a joking voice. His tone had been jovial, but Derrick was irked by the term "commoner" nonetheless.

"Right, well, anyway" Kurt said "I have a business proposition for you."

Victor eyed his porridge distastefully "I'm all ears."

"If I understand correctly, you passed through here a few weeks ago with a larger party? Some armed men and dwarfs? And now you're all camped west of here?"

"Correct on all counts."

"Well, I was just curious as to what it is you're doing up there, and if you need an extra sword." He looked over at Goliuth and Derrick,"Or three."

Victor seemed to ponder his suggestion.

"I'll answer your questions, but in reverse. Although I am not the leader of our expedition, I will hire you here and now, on his behalf. The Professor has complained to me on numerous occasions that he would like more men. Especially with our recent losses…"

"You've lost men already?" Derrick asked.

Victor looked at him, his features softening. "It was a sad day. Nathaniel and Siegfried were good men- if a bit simple. We were attacked by beasts of Chaos only two days past..."

An eerie silence fell upon the room. A stillness at the mention of the dread that threatened to consume the world.

"Luckily it was a small band, and we were able to dispatch their entire group. Sadly, Nathaniel and Siegfried were killed, they will be remembered…they all will."

Kurt was unnerved "You've lost more than two?"

Victor sighed and nodded. His compassion seemed genuine, but there was an easy resignation in his manner- as if this was all to be expected.

"Six of the ten the Professor hired have since perished. I would have brought twice as many men and taken twice as long to excavate the site, but he rarely listens to me anymore."

_He's not so impervious as he seems._ Kurt noticed bags under the wizard's eyes, and lines upon his young face. This endeavor was taking its toll on him.

"What exactly are you excavating? What kind of ruins are these."

Victor raised an eyebrow enigmatically "What little I know, I will not tell you." He stood. "Should I come to know you better in time, perhaps things will change."

Victor turned his back on them, and made his way towards the door. "I am pleased, I thought I had a weeks' journey upriver before I could find such well qualified replacements."

"What makes us so qualified?" Derrick asked.

Victor stopped, his cloak swirling around his boots. "You are breathing, are you not?"

The wizard looked back, his green eyes twinkling "For now I think that will suffice."


	8. Chapter 8

**I know its been taking me some time to keep up with this story, and I really appreciate those of you who are sticking with it. I'll try to be more regular with my contributions, so expect something every 2 weeks.**

That same afternoon found Goliuth working alone at the edge of the river. Two rabbit skins hung from a crude frame of sticks, their pale fur stained with blood. A second, larger frame, held the bloody carcasses. Goliuth's hands moved deftly, as he pulled another from the large sack at his side. The curved blade was out in a moment, a few quick movements across the rabbit, and it was back in its sheathe. Taking a firm grip of its feet, Goliuth pulled off the pelt like a sock. The skin unfurled easily, leaving him with a pelt in one hand, and a carcass in the other. He hung the body next to its fellows, and the pelt next to its.

The sound of water as it trickled by soothed his mind. He methodically removed the organs from the dripping rabbit, discarding some into the water. He held an eye in his fingers a moment then swallowed it whole. The distinctive taste brought memories flooding back to him, as he stared at the river below.

_Eggs. Fish eggs of some kind. They called it…caviar..from Kislev. The prices were exorbitant, but then nothing was too good for Her. _

He paused, finished with the rabbit last rabbit, and let it hang freely over the water. Droplets of blood fell into the swirling waters below.

_She nearly bankrupted him with her fish eggs and gowns and furniture. I told him she would…but Father never listened to me. _

He held his knife beneath the surface of the river, and watched as the red stains upon the steel were carried away.

_Guy hated her even more than I… but perhaps it is fated that sons must despise their stepmothers..._

He shook the thoughts from his mind and stood. He was finished with his catch, and pulled the three hanging rabbits from their frame. He trudged up the bank. He steered himself toward a large round dwelling. The walls, like most of the other dwellings, were made of a mixture of mud, clay and sand over wood framing. The roof was thatched with cut branches and hay. A woman was tending a small fire as Goliuth approached.

"I have three today" was his only way of greeting. The woman stood eagerly as he approached, wiping her hands on her already dirt-smeared face.

"I haven't had so much fresh meat since I was a little girl, I haven't sir." She said, holding out her hands out expectantly.

"See Magnus adds this to my tally." He said, stepping forward. Goliuth abruptly stopped short of handing them over. "And see you don't keep them all for yourself," his eyes glinted menacingly "like the last time." The woman looked away immediately and nodded. "Yessir, was right greedy of me that was. It won't happen again, I swears."

Goliuth nodded and let her have them. He turned away from her and began walking. Neither his thoughts nor his feet were aiming anywhere in particular. And yet both found themselves treading old paths.

_I wonder if we had treated Yvette differently, been more accepting, would she still have betrayed our cause?_

He looked over the river as he approached, a sudden urge striking him. Goliuth unbuckled his belt, tossing it on the bank to his right. He pulled vest and shirt off, dropping them to the ground as well. He hesitated a moment at the edge, his boot almost touching the water.

_Then again…who did we think we were, to attempt and overthrow our own King?_

He sprinted forward into the freezing water, immersing himself completely. The icy chill of the current succeeded in banishing all memories from his mind, replacing them with the urgent cold. Coming up for air, Goliuth shivered violently. He grinned as he turned upriver, and watched his breath steam in the air in front of him. It took him a moment to shift focus from the air in front of him, to the movement ahead. Fifty meters from him was boat that took up half the river. It's hull a faded grey, the three story high river-barge had a man standing at it's prow. "Ahoy Hammerfast!" the man yelled "we're bearing passengers and goods for trade."

Goliuth suddenly felt very vulnerable and trudged out of the water. He pulled his dry clothes over his head and buckled on his belt. He felt unbearably cold, and felt the tug of the Longhouse and its fires calling. He hesitated just a moment to watch the barge approach. More than one person were lining the forward rail of the ship. Goliuths' sharp eyes picked a silhouette from amongst the others. A tall figure, with a broad brimmed hat and a collared leather coat. He felt an icy twinge within, but not from the cold. He sensed that this boat brought some dread with it to Hammerfast…_Death_


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm sorry if my publishing practices are a bit erratic, but I find myself overwhelmed from time to time and unable to write. To all of you who are sill reading, my thanks, and I promise to publish more regularly in the future. Please read, review and enjoy!**

The arrival of the monthly ferry ahead of schedule was seen as a cause for celebration amongst the townsfolk. The large flat bottomed boat brought goods, news and people from the larger towns upstream, and was a vital lifeline for Hammerfast. All other work was postponed until the boat was securely docked, and its goods brought ashore.

Derrick was following the flow of villagers toward the shoreline when he was accosted by Justice.

"Is it true?" Justice asked, looking up at Derrick.

It took him a moment before he caught on. "We've spoken to the wizard. He says there's work for me Kurt and Goliuth, up at the ruins."

Justice nodded gravely. Strands of brown hair fell across her delicate features. "You know...I'm not like you three. Before all of this madness, I was a seamstress. I was going to open a shop of my own in Altdorf. I had the money. Now…" Her eyes were watering, and she wiped away the tears.

"Now I just want peace. To have a home somewhere where there is no more death…no more pain."

Derrick gave into an impulse and drew her close in an embrace. He held her there for a few minutes, neither speaking.

Justice rested her head against his shoulder. "You- all of you, are the closest thing to family I have. Part of me wished that we- we could all just stay here and make Hammerfast our home…"

Derrick smiled "I can't see Goliuth and Kurt settling down to a life in the country."

Justice giggled a little, looking up at him. "No, I suppose not."

He cleared his throat "What- what if I stayed?"

Justice looked into his eyes for a brief spell. "Would you do that?"

His heart hammered in his chest "If you asked me to."

Justice smiled and looked away in embarrassment. Derrick felt his heart soar for a moment.

"What about Alex?" Justice said.

Derrick felt his blood pound in his ears. He let go of Justice. "I- I tell you this, and all you can think about is him?"

Justice shook her head, her face plaintive. "No, no Derrick- its- we- I- its not like that."

Derrick nodded indignantly "Oh really. How is it 'like', Justice? Why would you bring him up now, of all times?"

"I'm just worried about him, I want to know what will happen to him."

Derrick shook his head in bewilderment. "Happen to him? He's not a child Justice, he's not your responsibility."

Justice looked away. "He's sick Derrick…he needs me."

"To hell with him!" Derrick said, raising his voice.

"Whats your problem with him? You and the others, you never speak to him unless you absolutely have to. Whats he done to you?"

"For Sigmar's sake, anyone could see there's something not right about him. He's always alone, he spends his time in the woods, Sigmar knows what he's doing out there-"

"He likes to be alone, is that so wrong? Goliuth never speaks to anyone, expect to explain how best to kill something. Alexander wouldn't hurt anyone. He doesn't want anything. I want to make a life here with you Derrick, I do. But you have to understand that Alex will still need me too...he's sick"

Derrick couldn't look at her anymore, and stared at his feet. He felt tears welling in his eyes. It was like someone had stabbed a knife into his chest. "Oh I understand. You can't decide who you want, so you want to keep the both of us around to fuck you if you change your mind."

He regretted the words as soon as he had said them. Justice took one step back, then another, and then she was running from him- her face buried in her hands.

He sprinted after her. He chased her down towards the bank of the river, through the press of villagers along the bank. He saw someone grab Justice and try to speak to her. She kept her head buried in her hands. She pointed toward Derrick, and the man she spoke to looked up- it was Alexander.

"Justice!" Derrick yelled, pushed through two men and splashing into the shallows where she stood. Justice shook her head and backed away.

"Just leave me alone!" Murmurs passed through the crowd of people, and men looked down from the large boat moored in the shallows. Derrick felt his face redden.

Alexander appeared to his right, placing a firm hand on Derrick's shoulder.

"You have hurt Justice much, I think you leave her be now."

Derrick looked up at Alexander, his eyes full of rage. "Take your fucking hand off me."

Alexander stood back a moment, taking his hand from Derrick's shoulder. Silence fell over the crowd, as tension poured off the two men like steam rising on a cold day.

"You vill walk away now." Alexander said quietly

"No, I won't" Derrick replied. He then lashed out with a right hand that caught Alexander's jaw.

The Kislevite fell to his knees.

Water splashed. Justice screamed. The men nearby called out bets.

Alexander charged Derrick's waist, knocking the air out of him. The two men tumbled into the shallows. Derrick found himself beneath Alexander, as the Kislevite began to pummel him. He gasped for breath as his head submerged beneath the water. His hands grasped at Alexander's throat. With a roar, Derrick flung his foe from him. He staggered to his feet, coughing up water.

"Derrick, what the fuck are you doing?!" someone yelled. Derrick glanced over and saw Kurt trying to push his way through the crowd. "Stop this! Let me through damnit, someone has to stop this!" Kurt yelled, but the ranks closed against him. Sailors and townsfolk overpowered the big man, not content to watch their entertainment end so quickly.

Derrick looked toward Alexander. The Kislevite was deeper into the river, the water reaching his waist. Not far behind the ship was moored, its crew watching the fight eagerly.

Derrick knew he should stop. He knew this would achieve nothing. But he didn't care. _No more holding back. _He was tired. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of covering his face lest a bounty hunter recognize him. In Hammerfast he had found the closest thing to peace since… _Since I cut Captain Koenig's throat._ And now this bastard was going to take it all away from him.

Derrick waded deeper into the water.

Alexander threw a roundhouse, but Derrick ducked it. He brought an uppercut under the Kislevite's chin, throwing him backwards into the river. When Alexander's head broke the surface, Derrick was there. He pushed Alexander's head beneath the water for a moment, then pulled him back up. The small man gasped, and Derrick struck him square in the face. He staggered backwards, his back hitting the hull of the boat. It shifted slightly, and the boxes and barrels piled high on the edge of the deck teetered precariously.

Derrick raised his fist again, but something stopped him. _This…this isn't right._

He hesitated. He felt his blood pound in his ears, his heart hammer against his chest. He was filled with a rage he had never felt before, something all consuming, so powerful and dark that it frightened him.

_This isn't right- I've never felt like this before…_

Derrick would have stopped then. He would have lowered his fists and left Alexander there, waist deep in the river. But the Kislevite could not know this. All he saw was his enraged foe hesitate- and he took his chance.

Alexander held up his hand, palm open, towards Derrick. The air seemed to blur between the two men, and suddenly Derrick couldn't move. He tried to struggle, but it was as if he were frozen in a block of ice. Alexander closed his hand into a fist, and Derrick the invisible grip around him tighten. The Kislevite stood to the side and yanked his arm backwards, indicating toward the boat. Derrick's feet left the ground and he surged through the water helplessly. He was lifted above the water and slammed into the side of the boat. The boat rocked as he fell heavily into the water below.

Derrick's head broke the surface. Something heavy slammed into the water next to him. He immediately realized what it was- a barrel- and instinctively looked up. Three oak barrels were suspended in midair above him, one floating inches from his face.

"Get out!" he heard Alexander yell, and he was splashing out toward the shore. Three heavy 'thunks' landed behind him, and water exploded over his head. He stumbled and fell in the water, but Alexander grabbed him.

"Don't vorry, I got you" the Kislevite said through a bloody nose. Derrick looked up at him, the rage he had felt earlier gone.

"I'm- I'm sorry-" he began. Arms suddenly jerked around Alexander's shoulders, tearing him away. Derrick tried to stand, but someone shoved him aside. People were everywhere. Kurt's strong arms lifted him to his feet, as the crowd parted. The crowd has holding Alexander fast, their faces filled with fear and anger. Derrick saw a man with a broad brimmed black hat, and a large leather coat push through the others. His face was weathered like beaten leather, and he bore numerous scars across his cruel features. He pulled a pistol from his belt, and placed the silver barely against the Kislevite's forehead.

"I am Witch Hunter Marius Braun, member of the Order of the Griffon" he said in a voice that sounded like crushed gravel. "And you are going to burn at the stake- freak…"


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt stepped forward from the crowd and faced the Witchhunter.

"There is no need for any more violence here Braun."

The Witchhunter tilted his head to the side, raising the brim of his hat slightly. One of the man's eyes were green, the other brown. He trained his disconcerting gaze upon Kurt, sizing him up.

"You address me as Sir, or you don't address me at all. And I'll be the judge of whether violence is necessary here." he raised his pistol from Alexander's forehead, and pointed the silver barrel directly at Kurt. "You understand me?"

Kurt sensed Derrick moving forward, and put out an arm to stop him. He raised his other hand toward Braun, palm open.

_Play the game Kurt, you know the rules well enough…_

"Yes sir, you're in charge here, of course sir. I-uh-I just meant that I didn't think that we should…jump to any conclusions here-sir."

_One too many fucking sirs_

Braun raised the brow over his green eye. "There's only one conclusion to be had here... mister?"

Kurt stared down the barrel of the pistol "Reinhold- Kurt Reinhold."

Braun grinned, but there was no humour in the expression. "Well Mister Kurt Reinhold, you'll shut your mouth and keep it shut in my presence, 'lest I 'conclude' you are in collusion with the Chaos spawn behind me."

A woman in the crowd let out a cry and fainted at Braun's words. Terrified whispering erupted as the Witchhunter turned back to Alexander, and struck him across the face with his pistol. The Kislevite slumped in the grip of men who held him, unconscious.

"Bind his hands and feet behind him- chains, no rope. And make sure they're good and tight!" Braun barked. His withering gaze fell across the gathered townsfolk. "Get back to yer homes, you bloody mongrels!" The crowd dispersed in seconds, families retreating to their dwellings as fast as their feet could carry them.

Kurt turned back to Derrick. "Come on, you heard the man."

Derrick began to protest, but Kurt held up a hand. "Not now boy. You shut your mouth and do as I say, or so help me I'll beat you unconscious right here and now."

Derrick grimaced beneath his bruised and bloody face, and nodded.

--

"And where in the name of the Gods were you?!" Kurt asked Goliuth as he entered the Longhouse. The ranger raised his hand to silence his friend while he closed the door. Derrick sat at one of the large feast tables in the center of the hall, dabbing his bruised face with a wet rag.

Kurt threw up his hands and turned away from both his friends, walking toward the huge fireplace at the far end of the log inn. He looked down at the small smoldering fire, as Goliuth spoke. "I gathered our arms from where the villagers hid them when we first arrived."

Kurt turned back and Goliuth tossed him his sword. He indicated two large satchels he was carrying, and tossed them on the table next to him. The ranger leaned back against the log wall, and as Kurt approached he saw he was already wearing his old garments.

Goliuth was a tall, broad shouldered man, with dark hair and stubble on his face. His eyes were quick, his face lean and handsome. A sinister dark elf cloak of black metal scales hung over equally black jerkin and leggings. Silver chainmail glinted at his joints, and an ornate sword hung from his belt.

Kurt nodded in approval of his friend's martial dress "Good thinking. We're going to need our blades, thanks to our fearless friend over there."

Derrick remained silent while Goliuth nodded. "I watched, though from afar."

"I could have used your help with the hunter- he nearly shot me down in front of the entire town" Kurt said, emptying a satchel on the table. Goliuth nodded as Kurt pulled off his shirt and picked up his armour. "Had the trigger of his pistol moved a hair, he would have had an arrow in his ear." Kurt looked up at the ranger, nodding in appreciation.

"Thank you friend. At least you have not lost all your wits."

Derrick slammed a fist on the table and stood."I didn't mean for any of this to happen!" he yelled. He ran his fingers through his long brown hair, and shook his head. "I lost control…I- I've never felt so angry." His young, proud features were streaked with regret. "I still barely understand what happened…did I imagine Alexander throwing me with his mind?"

"I'm afraid you did not," an accented voice called out from above them. Kurt turned in bewilderment, as at the top of the staircase stepped Victor Trealubhumen. He wore his usual green robes, to match his swirling emerald eyes.

"Alexander Putroyvich is no ordinary man, this I felt the moment I laid eyes upon him." Victor said, his smooth black staff thumping on the staircase as he descended.

"A little warning might have been nice" Goliuth muttered, as he helped Kurt finish buckling his armour. The silver breastplate and large steel shoulder guards glinted in the firelight. Kurt checked his fencing sword and handaxe, before responding to the wizard.

"So, you knew that Alexander was a danger and didn't deign to tell us?"

Victor reached the bottom of the stairs. "My powers gave me an inkling as to his potential, not a clear indication as to what he was."

"And what is he? More importantly, what's going to happen to him?" Derrick asked.

The room fell silent.

"You know the answer to both of those questions" Goliuth said quietly.

Derrick shook his head "No- no he saved me. In the water, the barrels almost crushed me and he held them."

Victor's expression was somber. "Indeed he did, Derrick. But it changes neither who he is, or what will happen to him..."

Derrick looked at Kurt, but the old outlaw refused to meet his gaze. "Kurt, you can't let this happen. Gods know I hate Alexander but he-he doesn't deserve-"

"-to burn…" Kurt finished. He looked into Derrick's eyes. " He's been touched by the Dark Gods. He can do things no ordinary man can. He almost killed you."

Derrick closed his eyes. "The fight was my doing, he defended himself."

Victor sighed "I agree, and yet his cover has been broken. There is no going back."

"It's what's best" Goliuth said. "Better death than what he might do if he succumbs to Chaos…"

"But we don't know he'll turn!" Derrick protested, standing.

"We don't know he won't" Kurt replied. "Don't tell me you've never seen this happen. What do you think happens to the deformed children fathers leave in the wild? That they prance around with wood elves all their lives? They die Derrick- they die for the danger they pose-"

"-_potential_ danger. Alexander can refuse to use his power, or turn it towards good, like a wizard!" Derrick said, pointing to Victor. "What makes you so different from him?!"

Victor stroked his goatee "Less than you would think," he replied softly. "But I cannot move objects through will alone- I have to tap into the Winds of Magic. Alexander's power is his own, part of his mutation."

"So we're going to let Braun burn him." Derrick said, a note of resignation in his voice.

"What are you going to do, kill half the town to save the man you almost drowned half an hour ago?" Goliuth asked. "Because that's what it would take- Magnus and all the rest, they'll try to kill you out of fear. Fear that you are in league with the dark powers. Do they deserve death any more than Alexander?"

Derrick closed his eyes and shook his head "Sigmar no. This is my fault. I hate Alexander. I hate him so much it scares me…but I can't let him be executed. I couldn't control myself, and now he's going to die."

"I won't lie to you. I won't pretend this isn't your fault" Kurt said evenly, staring into Derricks eyes. "It is. You're going to have to live with this… but his fate was inevitable. Every child knows the truth- when Chaos taints you, your life is forfeit He may be a bit odd now, but his power will grow and fester within him like a sickness. Then one day he'll lose control and take someone's life…like he almost took yours. And on that day he'll hear voices whispering horrors we dare not imagine in his ear, and he'll give himself to the darkness…"

The fire sputtered at Kurt's words. For the briefest of moments the shadows danced ominously across the wall, and the four men were not alone in the room. Kurt shivered.

Derrick slumped down into his seat. No one spoke for long moments.

"Goliuth" Kurt said, breaking the silence "go and quietly find Justice."

The ranger nodded and slipped quietly out the door. Kurt turned back to the others. "I think its best we leave, I pushed things too far with Braun. As soon as he's done with Alexander, he'll start looking at us with a suspicious eye."

Victor nodded "The reputation of Imperial Witchhunters is well known, even in my homeland. The kill without mercy, and any who question their methods soon find themselves the target of investigation." He looked at Kurt. "I suspect that even now, our friend Marius Braun is sowing seeds of fear amongst the townsfolk who call you 'friend'."

Derrick stood up slowly. His eyes were rimmed red, his square jaw set. "You all go on without me. I'm going to stay and watch."

"Why?" Victor asked, puzzled. Derrick turned his steely gaze toward the wizard. "Because I never want to forget…what I did."

Kurt nodded somberly, picking up the bag of Derrick's armour and weapons. "Your sword stays with me."

--

The others waited outside the walls of Hammerfast at dusk. Goliuth had been forced to carry the sobbing Justice outside of town.

No one had moved to stop him.

There were no goodbyes, no fond farewells. Simply a nod between Kurt and Magnus, the town Headsman. The two men had grown fast friends over the past few weeks. Now they were strangers again. A dangerous traveler and a frightened peasant. Whatever bonds of fellowship had been forged, whatever understandings had been reached…were gone.

Kurt had avoided the village center at all costs in his preparations to leave. He had nearly made it out of Hammerfast without seeing Alexander again…but then he had sighed and turned back.

He found himself walking a path he had been on a dozen times before…the march to the gallows.

Of course this time there were no gallows, no row of men standing with their necks in nooses.

Instead there was lonely figure chained to a pole. The combination of the fight with Derrick and Braun's pistol butt had severely bruised the Kislevite's weathered face. His face and bare chest were covered in blood from his broken nose. He had looked up at Kurt's approach. The Kislevite had smiled serenely at the old outlaw.

"Hello Kurt."

"Hello Alexander."

"Nice day, is it not?" Alexander asked.

Kurt nodded, looking up at the sunny sky.

Alexander continued "It was grey earlier, but is has cleared up. I think it vill be a lovely night."

Kurt looked at his feet "Not as lovely as it might have been, were I a braver man."

Alexander shrugged "We both have roles to play, I think, ya? I am the monster, you are the hero."

Kurt let out a laugh. A strained, humourless sound. "I'm hardly a hero."

"But I am still a monster…" Alexander said softly. Kurt didn't say anything.

"I can at least thank the Gods that I did not turn before I died…perhaps I might have a place in the afterlife."

"I hope that is so" Kurt said. He walked slowly over to small town well a few meters away. It was rarely used, reserved only for dry summers when the river ceased to flow. He reached in and began pulling on the rope. Soon a water-filled bucket was in his hands. Kurt turned back to the curious Alexander, who watched as the outlaw tossed the water on dry wood and hay at his feet. Kurt went back and refilled the bucket again, and again, and again. A dozen times and more he doused the wood and tinder with water.

Finally, he was done. Alexander looked below, then back up at Kurt. "Do you think it will work?"

"I think it will." Kurt replied.

"We were never friends… not really. I thank you for this" Alexander said, his eyes watering slightly.

Kurt nodded once. "All of us sinners deserve a little mercy."

At dusk, Kurt watched from the edge of the forest with the others. Justice was slumped with her back to a tree, exhausted. Goliuth had disappeared into the woods somewhere. Victor stood next to Kurt.

Jeers and cries rode on the cool twilight air. The Witchhunter's voice rang out against the night air, and was answered by a cheer from the crowd. A plume of black smoke curled lazily over the town. A dull orange glow gradually appeared over the center of town. A long while passed. No one spoke. Kurt thought he smelled cooking meat. His mouth watered involuntarily, and he nearly threw up.

The moon was high and the glow over the town had subsided when Derrick finally appeared at the gate. He looked much older. Kurt wondered if there had always been so many lines of age on the young mans face.

No one spoke then, they all simply began trudging away from town. Victor led them on the narrow trail away from Hammerfast, and Kurt watched as the village receded behind him. He felt the forest close in around him, and had never felt so glad to be away from what wise men called 'civilization'.

At one point he looked over at Derrick and asked him "Was it quick?"

Derrick shook his head. "No. But the wood was wet. The smoke put him to sleep before the flames ever touched him."

Kurt said nothing.

**With the group reeling from the events at Hammerfast, the party can move forward. Who is the mysterious Professor, and what exactly is he excavating that has killed 6 men already?**

**I won't tell you what it is...but I will tell you that lull is officially over, and the storm is about to begin!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Took a bit longer than I hoped it would, but I here's Chapter 11. Expect the next one within a week. I appreciate any reviews or suggestions you might have. Thanks for reading!**

The party traveled in relative silence for three days and nights. They followed the winding trail through the forest as it brought them deeper and deeper into the wild- and closer to their mysterious destination.

The forest had become a riot of colour during their stay at the village. Leafy oaks and stands of white birches bore canopies of red and yellow and brown and gold. At dawn, rays of sunlight rebounded across the bright foliage, bringing light to all but the darkest hollows. In the afternoon the smell of dead wood and cold air would mingle, bringing the undeniable scent of autumn. When the sun set, darkness would grip the world again, its presence made ever more evident by the frigid chill.

On the morning of the fourth day, Justice awoke to the sound of Victor returning to camp. She rolled groggily to her side beneath Kurt's bearskin cloak, and opened an eye. The wizard was standing over Derrick, reaching out with his staff to wake him. The young man opened his eyes abruptly and nodded in acknowledgment.

Justice looked away from Derrick before he saw her, and fought away the pain simmering just below the surface. She sighed and pulled herself up from her uncomfortable sleeping position. Kurt appeared from behind the tree he had slept under, scratching his chestnut beard.

"I hope you appreciated that cloak, because I nearly froze my toes off last night" Kurt said to Justice. She stood slowly, adjusting her hand-me-down leather britches.

"I didn't feel the cold much with my clothes and this." she said, handing him back the huge pelt. "Thank you again for lending it."

Kurt grinned drowsily. "Even little outlaws are taught to be polite to ladies. It is probably the only thing I've ever done to make my mother proud," he said.

"You know it's probably not wise to keep telling everyone about your lawless past- it seems like a fast way to get caught" Justice offered.

"A man lies about his past out of shame, or out of fear. I no longer suffer from either," he said with a slight edge in his voice. But then he smiled and the moment passed.

The others were already gathered around the fire, so Justice and Kurt quickly joined them.

"I spent the morning discerning how much farther we have to travel. Though I am not as comfortable conversing with these lands those in my home Estalia, rocks and trees speak the same language wherever one travels" the wizard said with a smirk. Justice couldn't decipher if he was joking or serious. "At present we are just under three hours from the ruins" Victor revealed.

"We will leave at once" he proclaimed, tapping the butt of his staff into the campfire. There was a hiss, and before their eyes the fire was consumed by a mire of watery mud. The others frowned in annoyance as Victor addled off into the woods.

As Justice made to grab her things she heard Goliuth mutter "I didn't need to talk to a sparrow to tell you we're three hours away…"

There was no real camp to dismantle, simply three satchels filled with provisions and blankets. They had been assured by Victor that the camp was well stocked with supplies, and somehow in possession of its own well. When pressed on how a water source was so conveniently situated, Victor had laughed. "I'm a wizard, it's what I do."

---

The glade was roughly oval in shape and maybe one hundred meters at its widest point. The ground was carpeted in knee-high grass but what really drew one's attention were the stones; dozens of great grey boulders eroded by time and wind, their original shapes mere suggestions now. Some of the ancient stones were half-submerged beneath green blankets of moss so they seemed to grow out of the ground. Victor pointed toward the far side of the clearing. Goliuth immediately recognized the flapping of white canvas tents.

"That's strange," said Victor as the group emerged into the sun light. "Whoever's on watch should have sounded the alarm by now… everyone's been on edge since the last attack, only the Professor bothers with the digging anymore. Ah, Kurgan probably got everyone drunk- he's a dwarf." Victor cupped his hands around his mouth, but Goliuth put up a hand to keep him silent. "Wait- lets go over there instead of announcing our presence to the entire area."

Victor's face reddened with embarrassment and he nodded. A cool breeze blew dead leaves across the clearing, as the party approached the camp. Goliuth's eyes were drawn a stone as he passed it. He noticed some strange carving visible upon the surface, but his focus was elsewhere.

"Something's happened…" Victor said gravely. Goliuth felt a chill run across the nape of his neck. He slowly pulled his longbow from his shoulder and put an arrow to the string. The ranger instinctively took the lead.

_Quiet your thoughts..._

Goliuth stalked cautiously into the camp, a circle of white canvas tents over wooden frames. Barrels, boxes, picks and shovels were scattered across the ground. A tent was collapsed upon itself to Goliuth's left. The ranger froze at the sight of blood splashed across the grass a few meters away. Behind him, Derrick drew his sword and the steel blade scraped loudly from its scabbard. The ranger's eyes scanned every tent, every box and barrel, searching for movement- for danger. Justice coughed suddenly and Goliuth jumped a little. He closed his eyes in frustration. No one said anything. He breathed deep.

_Easy…_

He looked back at the others and indicated to his left and right with his head. The party fanned out slowly across the camp, each member poised for action. Victor passed Goliuth and headed to a clutch of larger stones to the right. The ranger followed the wizard closely, as he headed beyond the edge of the camp. Goliuth's eyes widened when he finally caught sight of the sturdy wooden a-frame suspended over a gaping hole in the ground. He approached the hole and leaned over the edge cautiously. He could see no deeper than four or five feet, then all was consumed by darkness. His eyes followed half dozen ropes back up to a complicated series of pulleys hanging from the a-frame.

"They did it…" Victor said in bewilderment.

"This wasn't here when you left" Goliuth stated.

"They must have begun blasting. We brought kegs of black powder" Victor pointed to three barrels near Goliuth's feet marked with large black X's. The ranger crouched at the edge of the gaping wound in the earth.

"I think it's high time you told us what we signed up for, Victor" Goliuth said. The wizard was silent.

"Victor?" Goliuth looked up in annoyance, but the wizard was staring back the way they had come. Goliuth looked over his shoulder and felt his blood suddenly turn to ice.

Impossibly close, not four feet away, stood a terrifying figure. It was hunched with the horns and head of a goat, leaning on a staff of cancerous black wood. Its body was covered in crimson fur that made it appear to be drenched in blood. Breath steamed as the beast exhaled, and yet the air was far too warm for that to be possible. It stood there.

Silent.

Still.

Impossibly still, which somehow terrified Goliuth even more. Two glowing red eyes suddenly winked into existence, their terrible gaze trained on the ranger.

_Lady preserve us…_

"TO ARMS!" The ranger heard himself yell. With a snap his bowstring was at his cheek, then gone. His arrow tore through the air like a bird in flight. The beast's staff moved in a blur, catching the arrow with unholy speed. The beast let out a bray that echoed across the clearing, and then the world seemed to explode into action.

Foes rose up from camouflaged positions beneath the grass, their numbers in the dozens. They stood on hooves or paws with dark fur and savage forms, mockeries of man and nature. They were goat-faced, muscular creatures, with curving ram's horns and crude weapons of stone and jagged iron. Beasts of Chaos. Goliuth had heard of other breeds, larger and more powerful hybrids of stronger animals. Now he prayed they were simply stories.

For all their experience and wariness, the party was still caught by surprise. Kurt suddenly found himself surrounded as figures appeared from behind boulders and tents. Derrick shoved Justice behind him, parrying an axe-blow from an enemy to his left. Goliuth stabbed a handful of arrows into the earth in front of him, and watched beastmen approaching from his right. He brought an arrow to his cheek and heard Victor yell "The red beast, he commands some fell sorcery!"

Goliuth knocked another arrow to his string "I think we already knew that, but great job detecting him before they got the drop on us!" He yelled at the wizard.

As battle was joined, Goliuth let fly with a hail of arrows. To the right, Kurt let out a bellow of rage and knocked a beastman to the ground, while another moved to threaten the outlaw's flank. An arrow from Goliuth found the beast's shoulder, spinning it to one knee, and Kurt finished the job with his axe. Away to the left Derrick was battling with silver blade and shield, while Justice fired her dark elf crossbow with desperate skill. Neither spoke, but they worked in silent efficiency; Derrick holding the enemy at bay while Justice fired on them from a distance.

Goliuth heard something growl behind him and dropped instinctively into a forward roll. Coming up with an arrow to his string, the ranger twirled around to see a goat-faced horror charging him with a spear. The arrow buried itself into the beast's skull, but its body careened forward into Goliuth. He crashed to the ground and was immediately pinned by the body. He gagged at the stench and struggled feebly beneath the heavy creature. Then a shadow fell over him.

_Oh no…_

The red beast looked down on him with a look that might have been a smile. It raised the butt of its staff over Goliuth's forehead and the ranger felt some sickening power emanate from the wood. The air around it shimmered and warped. Goliuth knew if it touched him he would die. The butt of the staff moved down sharply, but at the last moment Goliuth heaved the dead beastman up. The body blocked him from the staff's touch. Then something pulsated beneath its skin. There was a tearing of flesh, something wet and slick with blood brushed Goliuth's face.

"AGHHH!!!" the ranger screamed, rolling from beneath the writhing corpse. Goliuth scrambled back against a boulder, his eyes locked on the corpse. Blood gushed from the beastman's gut as a glistening maggot the size of a cat flopped onto the ground. It wriggled frantically toward Goliuth, its mouth sucking and searching like a baby for its mother's teat. He had never seen anything more horrible in his life. He grabbed at the hilt of his sword but couldn't get the blade free. The beastman sorcerer brayed in approval. The maggot was about to latch onto Goliuth's shin, when Victor's staff crushed the creature into the earth. The wizard stepped before the downed ranger, one hand reached back protectively. Victor flicked the crushed maggot toward its creator. Gripping his staff with both hands he spun it before him in a blur.

"Your every breath is a crime against nature; prepare to take your last!"

Goliuth thought the line a bit theatrical, but appreciated the wizard's help nonetheless. He scrambled to his feet as the beastman's staff met Victor's in a blaze of orange sparks. Goliuth tore his sword from his scabbard, hesitating. Light played around the two wizards, as the air shimmered and sparks flew. Victor lashed out expertly with the round head of his staff. The knob of wood struck the shaman square in it's forehead with a 'thunk'. Immediately, thick creepers studded with savage thorns sprang from the ground and ensnared the beast's limbs. Victor held his staff tightly, sweat beading on brow. The creature mewled in pain as its bonds tightened.

"I could use a little help!" Goliuth heard Derrick yell. He reluctantly spun away, ready for a fight he could help with. He turned just in time to see a massive bull-headed monster crash into the center of the camp. A Minotaur.

_I probably should have expected something like that to happen… _Goliuth thought, leaping over a boulder.

**ACTION! See, I'm like Ridley Scott- I might take my time, but when I get to the action I don't hold back. Hmmm, Ridley Scott...I think I'm going to go watch Kingdom of Heaven. See ya next time.**


End file.
